The Next Seven Days
by Ultra-Geek
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week.  The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it.  Arthur has a plan, though.  Sort of.
1. Prologue: The Dawn

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Merlin belongs to Shine and BBC  
AN – I hope this ends up as cool as it is in my head. This chappie's a bit shorter than the rest will be, as it is only a prologue. Enjoy!

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_Prologue: The Dawn_

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_

"This is stupid," Merlin said. It wasn't the first time.

Arthur rolled his eyes. He counted silently to ten, and…no, he was still annoyed. He turned and jabbed his finger in his servant's face. Merlin went slightly cross eyed watching. "If you say that one more time," Arthur said, "I will slap you. With God as my witness, I will slap you in the face. Do you understand?"

Merlin nodded.

"Good," Arthur said, and turned to keep walking, "Now shut up, and let's keep moving."

It was silent, for a moment. A short moment. And then Merlin sighed. He huffed. Arthur fought down the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. Merlin sighed again, this time much louder and exaggerated to a ridiculous degree.

Arthur whirled around, and hissed, "What is it now?"

"Nothing," Merlin said, "It's just that this is st – uh, this is silly."

"What part of 'I will slap you in the face' didn't get through to you?"

"The part where you'd actually slap me," Merlin said with a smile, and added, "But anyway, you said you'd slap me if I said this was stupid. I didn't say that, I said it was silly."

Arthur just shook his head, and kept walking. Merlin plodded along behind him. Ever since Morgana's attack on Camelot, he and the knights had taken rotating shifts on night patrols. So, naturally, when it was Arthur's turn to wander about the woods at night, Merlin came along as well. However, that didn't mean that Merlin liked it. It also didn't mean that Merlin was any quieter than usual.

"I mean," Merlin continued, "We're running about the woods at night. What on earth could this possible accomplish, besides exhaustion and death. There're wolves out here, Arthur."

"Wolves? Who told you there were wolves?"

"Gwaine."

"Well, Gwaine's an idiot. Rule of thumb, don't listen to Gwaine. Whenever he talks, just plug your ears and sing loudly," said Arthur, and Merlin snorted, "There aren't any wolves, not this close to the city."

"Yeah, _but_," Merlin said, drawing the second word out in a whine, "There are bandits, and even if we did somehow manage to stumble across Morgana or some other never-do-wells, what would you propose we'd do? Yawn them into submission? Or, oh, I know, we could snore them to death."

"We would warn the city and take action," Arthur answered, "Now be quiet. If there is anyone out here, we don't want to give away our position." Then Arthur put his foot down where he thought was solid ground, but ended up being a bit of a hole.

What happened next, when retold, had two vaguely different renditions. In Arthur's version, he fell soundlessly and quietly, bouncing down the cliff to the bottom, where he landed on his stomach and took a few moments to regain his bearings. In Merlin's version, Arthur shrieked like a child, flailed quite a bit, and then tumbled away, yelping the entire way down until the prince faded from view into the darkness.

Whichever tale you choose to believe is your own business. In the end, it doesn't especially matter. What matters is that Arthur ended up alone in the woods, at night, cut off from Merlin by a rather steep cliff.

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice came from above, layered with anxiety and worry.

Arthur pushed himself up, and called, "I'm alright." Of course, then he tried to stand, and collapsed back down to the damp earth with a hiss. "Less alright!" he yelled up to Merlin.

"Stay there," Merlin answered, "I'll come to you."

"Great," Arthur muttered, and massaged his ankle. He didn't think it was broken, only a little twisted, "I'm going to be here all night then."

He settled in for a long wait of boredom tinged with annoyance. Merlin, though Arthur was at loathe to admit it, did have some vaguely useful talents. However, navigating a forest filled with roots and bushes and bandits at night was not one of them. Arthur didn't have to wait very long for his boredom to end, though, but it had very little to do with Merlin.

"Arthur Pendragon," a woman's voice said from behind him.

She was made entirely of leaves and sticks, all swaying like she might fly apart at any moment. "I must speak with you."

Arthur drew his sword and stumbled backwards and to his feet, bad ankle almost giving out on him, and said, "Stay back."

It turned out to be the wrong move.

Roots sprung from the ground, twining around Arthur's legs and jerking him to the ground. As soon as he hit the ground, more roots stabbed upwards and wound around his arms and torso, effectively tying him to the more than a little muddy ground.

"I said," the woman repeated, "I must speak with you."

"What are you? What is this?" Arthur said, wiggling against his bonds, "Release me!"

"I am a dryad, a spirit of the trees. I am here to help you," she said, "But you have to listen!"

"Let me go!"

"Listen, Arthur Pendragon, _listen_," the dryad said, "For I bring you warning, and my sisters and I wish only good for Camelot, I beg of you, listen to me!"

Then she crouched down in front of him, and laid a hand on his hurt ankle. There was a rush of heat, and then any signs of injury were gone. All that was left was a dull ache. "You owe me a boon, now," she said, "If you listen, I will release you from your debt."

"Alright," Arthur said, "I'll listen."

"On the first day, two prophets shall enter the gates of Camelot," she said, "One is false, the other true, though none know which is which, not even themselves, for we have come to a crossroads, my Lord, both magic and non-magic alike. Both futures are possible, and it all depends upon the next seven days. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Arthur said, his breath fogging into the air.

"On the second day, you shall be guided to a sword," the dryad continued, "It is embedded in stone. Take it. It was forged by dragon fire and loyalty to be wielded by you, and only you. But go alone, with only one other to guide you. If anyone else bears witness, then they shall try and take the blade from you. On the third day, you will be forced between duty and love, mind and heart. Choose wisely."

"Gwen?" he asked, heart hammering wildly, "Are you talking about Guinivere?"

The dryad held up a finger, silencing him. "On the fourth day, one of your knights will be struck down. A trusted friend will be accused. You will have to decide if he is responsible or not. Again, I council you to choose wisely, for it may cement your undoing. On the fifth day, Camelot shall fall under attack from the witch Morgana at dawn, and she shall uncover a secret, discover what the one you trust the most has hidden from you, and she shall use it to her own advantage," she said, and glanced towards the sky where the moon hung, and then continued, "On the sixth day, he who will bring magic to Camelot will be given power beyond anything this world has ever seen or will ever see again. He shall make his decision, and your actions will be what sways him."

"On the seventh day, for good or for ill, magic will be restored to the land," the dryad said, "It will return with the rising sun. If he comes in the east with the light, then embrace the magic, Arthur Pendragon, for the old religion stands with you. However, if he rides with the darkness, and chases away the light, then run. Run as fast and far as you can. Leave this land, and take a boat across the sea. I fear even that will not be far enough. For if he rides with the darkness, he shall enslave us all, and he shall use you to do so. Will you heed my words, Arthur Pendragon? Will you remember them?"

"Yes," he said, "Yes, of course I will."

The roots unwound from around him, drawing back down into the earth, "Good luck, my King," the dryad whispered, beginning to fade into wispy leaves, "I have done what I can."

She was gone, and Arthur was left alone, lying in the dewy grass, staring up at the sky. It was coated with the pale, thin light of the extremely early morning, the sun just barely above the trees. He could hear Merlin somewhere off in the distance, calling his name and tramping through the woods. Arthur stood, and took note of how the tree roots had severed the belt that held his scabbard to him.

"_Wonderful_," he muttered, and, grasping his sword, went off to get Merlin so they could return to Camelot. After all, it appeared that they had something of a busy week ahead.


	2. The First Day

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: Whaddya know, Merlin still belongs to Shine and BBC and I still am making nothing off of this.  
AN – Thanks for all of the reviews! I tried to respond to each of you in turn, but if I missed someone, I sincerely apologize. There's been something kind of hinky going on with my alerts, and I get them after a two day lag. It's really fairly annoying, but…what can I do? Ah, well. On with the fic!

OH. You all probably know about this by now, but SERIES FOUR IS NOW GOING TO BE 13 EPISODES INSTEAD OF THE ORIGINALLY ANNOUNCED 10. Oh, and the series opener is going to be a 2-parter. You can't see my face right now, but there is pure joy there. Also, certain characters are going to be back AND making first appearances that I'm super excited about (won't list due to spoilers). As for myself, I'm the only one I know within a three hour radius who watches Merlin, so if you'd like someone to e-flail with over the new series, I'd be happy to! : )

Also, this chapter hasn't any Gwen, but she'll be popping up later, promise.

One last thing, and then this bottomless AN will be done, I swear – As per usual, my goal is to update at least once a week. Chances are it will be more often than that, but still. If it's been longer than a week, feel free to bully me into updating. :D

* * *

_The First Day_

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* * *

_

It was a long, damp walk back to Camelot. The early morning fog had the sort of chill that creeped under cloaks and through layers, straight to the bone. It seemed even more eerie as Arthur relayed his conversation with the dryad to Merlin. In the east, the sun was just barely clearing the trees. Everything was covered in a misted, gray light.

"…So we have a week," Merlin said, "Excellent. In short, we've been up all night and have nothing to show for it but a very, _very_ funny anecdote followed by a not-so-funny-we-might-all-die anecdote."

"What funny anecdote?"

"The one where you screamed like a girl and waved your arms like you were trying to fly."

"I remember it differently."

"Yes, well, you would, wouldn't you?"

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up," Arthur said, and they reached the gates. As they walked past the sentries, Arthur paused, and then said to one, "Tell the guards that if two people claiming to be prophets want to get in the city, they are to let them. In fact, have them escorted to my rooms. Understood?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good," Arthur said, and began to walk back to the castle. He was exhausted, and wanted to get something of a nap in before he started his day.

Merlin lagged behind him, and said, "You think the dryad was telling the truth?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, "But we'll find out, won't we?"

"But you believe that she might be telling the truth," Merlin said, with hesitation, "I mean, you actually listened to her. To a creature of magic. You_ listened._"

"She had me tied to the ground," Arthur said, "You would've heard her out as well."

"But I'm not…" Merlin trailed off.

"What, Merlin?" Arthur said, "You're not what?"

"I'm not you," he said simply.

Arthur stared at him, and walked away. And as he walked, he thought about all of the things that he didn't say to Merlin. He didn't tell Merlin about how he had felt – actually _felt_ – a swirl of magic in the air around the dryad. He didn't say how that lightest brush of magic hadn't felt bad, or wrong, or evil in any sense of the way. And maybe it was the tree woman, the dryad, influencing him, pushing him into believing her, but Arthur didn't think so. He didn't tell Merlin about how that smallest smell of magic was enough to make him quiet down and listen to the dryad's words.

He didn't say any of that to his servant. After all, it would probably only put dangerous ideas in Merlin's head. Merlin was already far too knowledgeable about magic for Arthur's liking. The prince was sure that it was only a byproduct of living with Gaius, but still. Merlin was too curious about things, and Arthur felt it was only a matter of time until he walked in on Merlin messing with forces better left alone.

Merlin wasn't Arthur, as he had said. And sometimes, that was a scary thought.

Merlin caught up with him, half jogging. "Would you mind if I went and found Gaius?" he said, "Get his opinion on all of this."

Arthur waved a hand, "Just come wake me up in a few hours. Do whatever you want."

Merlin nodded, and left.

Arthur wasn't sure if he was happy for the quiet that was left in his servant's wake or not. But then he dragged his feet through his door and collapsed on his bed, pausing only long enough to kick off his boots. "Mm," he said, smiling a little, "Bed."

He was asleep not a second later.

It felt like he had only blinked, but then Merlin was whipping open his curtains and saying, "It's noon, Lazy Bones, time to rise and greet the, well, not morning but –"

"Oh, I should fire you," Arthur groaned, but pushed himself up.

"Someone's a bit cranky," Merlin said. Arthur stared at his servant for a moment as Merlin walked over towards the table, prattling on about breakfast and sausages. Merlin didn't look at all like he'd been up all night, stamping through the woods. Arthur began paying attention to what Merlin was saying just in time to hear, "…pay no attention to me, go ahead, get fat, see what I care."

Business as usual, then.

Arthur ignored him and trudged behind the screen to change his clothes. "Any sign of anyone proclaiming the future?" he asked.

"Not yet," Merlin said, "But there's still time."

Arthur hummed, "What did Gaius have to say?"

"He was really surprised that a dryad talked to you," said Merlin, "Apparently they don't much like people. I've been saying for years, though, that you're closer to troll than person –"

"_Hey!_"

" – and he seems to think that it would be better to take her words as true."

"We'll see," Arthur said.

There was a rap on the door, and the sound of Merlin walking over to answer it. Arthur meandered over to his food, sitting so that his back was to the entryway. There was the sound of people talking quietly, and then Merlin walked over with rather wide eyes. "Well?" Arthur said, and snorted, "Let me guess, we've two prophets at the door."

He laughed. But, then, Merlin said, "Actually, yes. Shall I admit them?"

Arthur choked on his mouthful of sausage, coughing and smacking himself in the chest once. He cleared his throat, and said, "Are you serious?"

Merlin nodded.

"Oh," Arthur said, and took a gulp of water, "Then, um. Let them in, I suppose. That's what I said to do, originally, right? Then start clearing this up."

Again, Merlin nodded, and then walked over to the door. "Prince Arthur will see you now," he said, stepping out of the way. Arthur had to swallow a smirk at the sudden docile, courtly manner Merlin had adopted.

The two men – prophets, if the dryad was to be believed – walked in. Both of the men were wearing clothes worn ragged. Arthur couldn't begin to guess what color their garb had been originally, for it had all been faded away to varying shades of brown. They had no remarkable features. There was absolutely nothing about them that would make either stand out in a crowd. In fact, as they moved to stand in front of Arthur, the prince found that he had trouble remembering what either looked like as soon as his gaze strayed elsewhere.

"Prince Arthur," the first man said, sweeping into a bow.

"My Lord," said the second, mimicking the first man's gesture.

"I'm told that you fancy yourselves prophets," Arthur said.

"Aye," said the first, "Fancy is the right word for my associate. Myself, however, I am a prophet. I fancy nothing."

"Teller of untruths," muttered the second, "My Lord, I assure you that I am the true soothsayer. He spreads falsehoods and lies."

Merlin disguised a laugh as a cough as he picked up a water pitcher from the table, and walked towards the door with it.

"Very well," Arthur said, "Say your piece."

"May I speak plainly?" said the first man, just as the second opened his mouth as well.

Arthur waved his hand for him to proceed.

"The warlock Emrys will destroy us all," said the first man. Something shattered, and Arthur turned to look. Merlin stuttered out an apology and started to pick up the remains of the pitcher, staring at the ground. Arthur didn't miss the way that Merlin's hands were shaking slightly as he mopped of the spilled water. He frowned, and made a note to ask about it later.

"He lies, my Lord," the second man said, gesturing at the first, "Do not listen to him. Listen to me. You have nothing to fear from Emrys – his only wish will be to put you on the throne of Camelot, to see you unite the lands of Albion, to help you in any way that he can."

"I'm going to stop you, the both of you," Arthur said, and pointed to the first man, "You go first. When you've said your piece, you may go. Does this sound fair?"

"Aye, my Lord," the first man said, and the second man nodded without a word.

"Well, then, whenever you're ready," Arthur said with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you, my Lord," the first man said, "Emrys will come with the dawn, and blot the sky from sight. He will sweep in, when the battle seems lost, and then he will ensure that it is. You will be put on the throne, yes. But you will be but a façade of a king, a puppet dancing on the end of a string. Emrys will be the true lord of the land. The sun will never touch this land again. Magic will rule over you with all the iron clad fury that Uther ruled over it."

Merlin made an odd choking noise, like he was clearing his throat and got stuck half way through. The first man paused, staring past Arthur's shoulder at the servant. "S-sorry," Merlin whispered.

Arthur waited for the first man to continue, but he didn't. "Are you finished?"

"For now, my Lord."

"Alright," Arthur said, and looked to the second, "Your turn."

"My acquaintance is right in one regard, my Lord," said the second, "Emrys will sweep in at the end of the battle, at the dawn, right when you've lost all hope of victory. But he will chase the darkness from your kingdom's skies, he will tilt the odds to your favor. You will rule with a just and good advisor at your side, my Lord. You will finally have peace between your people and magic."

He paused, and again, Arthur waited for him to continue. "That is all?"

"Aye, my Lord, that is all."

"May I be frank with you, gentlemen, as you appear to have been with me?"

They both nodded.

"He is sounding more appealing," Arthur said, nodding at the second man.

"You do not strike me as a man who would take the easy path to ignorance," the first man said, "Not when the path of knowledge is opened to you. My words are not palatable, my Lord, but I only speak the truth. You must begin to prepare."

"There is one grain of truth in my associate's words, Prince Arthur," said the second, "You must prepare. There will be blood spilled, and it will be a brutal fight. But at the end, you will prevail, and usher in an era of peace and prosperity for your kingdom."

"No, my Lord," the first said, and shot a nasty glare at the second, "Pay no heed to his pretty little lies, he – "

"Pretty little lies?" the second man thundered, "I only speak the truth!"

Arthur held up a hand, and they both fell silent. Then, Arthur pointed at the first man, "You say that this Emrys is going to use me to enslave everyone," he said, and then pointed to the second, "And you say that he's going to come sweeping in and save us, and then be some sort of peace keeper, correct?"

They both nodded.

"I have a question, then," Arthur said, standing. He paced a little as he spoke, "Have either of you ever met the man?"

"My Lord?" said the second man, and the first looked just as confused.

"Emrys," said Arthur, "Have either of you ever met him? I think after even just a few moments of speaking with a person we'd know if he was in the business of toppling kingdoms or not. So, again, I repeat – have either of you ever met him?"

They both shook their heads, and the first man said, "My Lord, all I have is my message. All he has is his lies." The second man bristled, but said nothing.

"I see," Arthur said, "And do either of you have anything else to tell me?"

Again, they both shook their heads.

"In that case," Arthur said, moving to look out the window, "The guards outside will escort you to the border."

They both muttered goodbyes, and Arthur waited until they were gone.

"Well, Merlin, what do you think?" Arthur said. He didn't get an answer. When he turned to look where Merlin had been, near the door, all he saw was an open door and a very Merlin-less room. Arthur huffed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and heaved himself to his feet. Then, he set off down the hall in search of his runaway servant. And, as he went, a plan began to stir somewhere in the back of his mind…

* * *

Merlin, meanwhile, was dangerously close to panicking. He had fled Arthur's room as soon it was clear the prophets had nothing new to say, bits of broken water pitcher in his hands. His heart was hammering, his palms were wet, and he was shaking from head to foot. He dumped the broken pitcher into a potted plant, and staggered off to an empty corridor.

"C'mon, Merlin," he muttered to himself, smacking his forehead against a wall, "Get yourself together. Take a breath, calm down, you can do this."

All he could think about, though, was the second prophet's face as he said, _The warlock Emrys will destroy us all_. "Oh, _God_," he moaned, "Why me? Why does it always have to be me?"

"Merlin?"

He jumped, and turned to find Gaius walking up to him.

"I need to speak with you. It's rather urgent," Gaius said, but then frowned, cocking his head slightly to the left, "What did you do to your hand?"

"What?" Merlin said, and looked down. His left hand was bleeding. "Oh, I must've, uh…I must've cut it on the water pitcher."

Actually, now that he thought about it, he remember when it had happened. Just after the second prophet had mentioned how he was going to be the equivalent of a magical Uther. He fought down the urge to slam his head against the wall again.

Gaius just sighed, and began to poke at the cut. Merlin hissed slightly. "It's not that bad, and I've some bandages here," he said, and began to wind the aforementioned bandage around the room, "I take it from your current state that you've heard our prophetic friends' ideas about the future."

Merlin gaped at him. "What…where…how do you know?"

"Everyone knows, Merlin," Gaius said, "Before they spoke with Arthur, they ran about the streets and told anyone who would listen. The city's gone half mad."

"Can you blame them? They all think that Emrys is going to tear down their lives," Merlin said, "Oh, no, wait a moment – they all think that _I'm_ going to tear down their lives."

"Please, don't be melodramatic," Gaius said, "We both know that you won't do that. But we do need to discuss –"

"Merlin!" Arthur called from somewhere down the hall.

"You should go," Gaius said, tying the end of the bandage, "There. And do try to be more careful."

"What? You mean so I don't accidentally rip down the castle?" Merlin hissed. Gaius just gave him The Look – the one with the raised eyebrow and the judging – and so Merlin slumped off in the direction of Arthur's voice. He rounded a corner to see Arthur walking in the opposite direction, and snapped rather louder and testier than he meant to, "What do you want?"

Arthur turned, and narrowed his eyes, striding towards Merlin. "Is that any way to talk to your prince?"

"Sorry," Merlin said, "What do you want, Sire?"

"Better," Arthur said, "Where did you run away too?"

"I got rid of the broken pitcher," Merlin said, "But I hurt myself on one of the bits. So I went and found Gaius. Did you know that the prophets were running willy-nilly in the city before coming up to see you?"

"You mean they talked to other people?"

"Seems like it," Merlin said, "At least, according to Gaius."

"What did they say?"

Merlin forced a smile onto his face. "Oh, the same as what they said to you. We're all going to die."

Arthur swore, and began to walk back towards his chambers, motioning for Merlin to follow. "I'll admit that I was hoping to keep this quiet," Arthur said, throwing open the door to his room, "Now we'll have to deal with panic as well."

Merlin hummed in a noncommittal sort of way. His mind was days away – six days away, in fact, and shying away from what he would possibly be doing at that point in time. But apparently, Arthur was expecting more of an answer than that. So, Merlin said, "What's next?"

"We assume the dryad was telling the truth. At this point, even if she wasn't, that sword sounded somewhat impressive. So I need to find whoever knows where to find a sword in a rock," Arthur said, "And go and get it. Do you think Gaius knows? I don't know who else to ask. Lancelot, maybe, he traveled around a lot. Gwaine, too. Any of the knights… But I don't want to go around asking people. The dryad said I shouldn't, unless she was lying. I mean, the only person I'd really trust not to try and take the sword is you."

"Me?"

"Clearly," Arthur said, rolling his eyes, "You couldn't take the sword from me even if you wanted to. And you don't know where it is, so that's out."

"Yes, well," Merlin said, and shut the door, "That wouldn't be an entirely true statement."

Merlin knew Arthur well enough to know that the prince-regent was currently resisting slamming his head against a wall. "_Mer_lin," Arthur said, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Running a hand through his hair, Merlin shrugged, and with a nervous smile, said, "It's kind of a funny story…"


	3. The Second Day

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to Shine and BBC, I make nothing off of this.  
AN – WOW! Thanks for all the lovely reviews. This Author's note (much like The Lord of the Rings) comes to you in 3 parts.

To Start - some people pointed out that I accidentally referred to the first prophet as the second prophet in Merlin's POV of the last chapter. My mistake. But, guess what – next chapter, canon characters who aren't Arthur, Merlin, or Gaius are going to have lines! Yay!

Next – if any of y'all are Canadian, could you explain what's happening with your government at the moment? US news kind of fails on the international level (shocker, I know) and I can't quite figure out what's going on.

Thirdly and Finally - I've been updating rather frequently, but it's going to start slowing down a bit. Yes, the at least once a week still applies. Silly life, getting in the way of fandom! :D

ON WITH THE FIC!

* * *

_The Second Day_

* * *

_The sky has gone black. There are rolling clouds, up there, and as he walks along the passage, he thinks about how much he's come to miss the sun. But the storm follows him, everywhere, he can't shake it no matter what he does. There're voices, too, and they follow him with the clouds. They scream at him until he wants to rip his hair out and howl like a madman._

_That's what he is, now. He knows it, too, can say the exact moment that the switch was thrown and his mind and soul shattered, unable to stand the pressure, and he can't –_

_He pushes those thoughts away. The last time he'd entertained them, he knocked down a tower. Arthur had sulked for weeks. He continues on his way until he walks into the throne room. The king is staring absently out a window, down at the courtyard. He doesn't have to look to know it's deserted._

"_There's something wrong about this, Merlin," Arthur says, not bothering to turn, "But I…I can't remember what it is."_

_It annoys him, this questioning, this wondering why. So he presses his magic forward on the king, and says, "We talked about this. Remember that? They are a threat to the kingdom. Your kingdom. If we don't destroy them, they'll destroy us. You don't want that, do you?"_

"_No…" Arthur says, and for a moment there's the smallest flair of gold in the king's blue eyes, Merlin's magic taking hold, "Are you sure about this?"_

"_C'mon, Arthur," he says, and smiles, "When have I ever steered you wrong?"_

_Somewhere in the distance, there's someone screaming._

Merlin jerked awake, a cold sweat dripping down his back. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. He groaned, and forced himself to take deep, even breaths as he shivered against the morning light that slanted through his window. "Just a dream," he said. _Breathe in, breathe out. In, out. _"It wasn't real, it's just a dream. It's nothing but a bad dream."

…Which was exactly what they'd told Morgana, way back when, before everything went wrong.

Merlin fell back against his bed again, staring at the ceiling. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet and began to get dressed – he wasn't going to be getting any more sleep in the near future. He walked out of his room to where Gaius was crushing something up in a bowl.

"You're up early," said Gaius.

"I'm going with Arthur," Merlin said, "To get the sword."

Gaius fumbled and almost dropped the bowl. Merlin winced, and realized that he had neglected to tell Gaius about his and Arthur's little quest for the day.

"You told him about the sword?" Gaius gasped, and Merlin turned to find the physician looking stricken, "Did you happen to mention how it came to be there?"

"Yes, I told him about the sword, and no, I didn't say how it got stock in a rock," Merlin said, and was unable to keep the edge of annoyance from his voice, "That would've gone over well, wouldn't it? 'Oh, Arthur, I know this is kind of a stressful time for you, but I have magic and might destroy your kingdom this weekend if the fancy strikes me, but – bonus for you! – I'm also the one who made your magic sword and stuck it in a rock for safe keeping. Which cloak would you like, brown or black?'" He threw his bag down on the floor and flung himself down at the table, staring intently at the wall. _C'mon, Arthur_, his own voice said, drifting up from his dream, _when have I ever steered you wrong?_

Gaius raised an eyebrow, and said, "You're not going to destroy the kingdom."

"But –"

"Merlin," Gaius said, sitting down across from him, "I know things are looking dark for you right now, but you must stop dwelling on that."

"It's just," Merlin said, and trailed off for a moment, his dream stuck in the front of his mind. "Right now, the last thing I would ever do is put Arthur or Camelot in danger. I know that. You know that. But it's the sixth day that's worrying me."

"The one where you're given the power."

Merlin nodded, "Gaius, what if I can't handle it? What if it's too much, and I flip out and go mad? I could end up like Nimueh, or Sigan, or worse. What if –"

"What if the sky turns to pudding and our noses fly off to the coast?" Gaius commented monotonously, "What if all the animals of the forest start to talk and Sir Gwaine gives up his drinking?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Merlin said, but couldn't stop the small smile that stretched across his face.

"As are you," Gaius said, "And now that we've established that, how did you tell Arthur about the sword without telling him about your magic?"

"I said I stumbled across it looking for things for you," Merlin said, "He bought it, thank God. That went over a lot better than 'I stuck it in a boulder a few months back' would have."

Actually, 'bought it' was a fairly strong term. Arthur had given him a look very similar to the one he'd shot at Merlin at the almost wedding, right around the time Merlin had said he'd read a book. The one that said, yes, Merlin, I'm perfectly aware that what you're saying isn't quite the truth, but we haven't the time and I haven't the inclination to press this any further at the moment.

"Good," Gaius said, and waved a hand, "Now, go. Arthur will be waiting for you. And when you get back, I'd like to talk to you."

The smile fell off of Merlin's face, and as he walked out of the room the worried, dark look had taken its place once again. Gaius stood, and picked up the boy's bag from the floor, holding it out. A moment later, Merlin came skidding back in and grabbed it, throwing a bashful, "Thanks," over his shoulder as he ran off again.

Gaius shook his head, and tried to ignore the anxious pit that was growing in his stomach.

* * *

"Arthur, keep up!" Merlin called over his shoulder, "We've only today."

Arthur snorted, kicking his horse. "No need to remind me," Arthur retorted, and some of his doubts stirred, "Speaking of time, are you sure you know where we're going?"

"Yes."

"You're positive."

"Yes!"

"You're absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, sure that you know where we're going?"

"For the love of – Yes! Yes, I know where we're going!" Merlin said, and glared at Arthur, "Why would I say that I did if I didn't?"

"And, furthermore, are you sure that where we're going is where we need to be going?" Arthur asked, "We're somewhat on a schedule, if you remember, _Mer_lin."

"It's a bloody sword in a stone," Merlin snapped back, "I'm certain I'd remember it."

Arthur didn't say anymore, and Merlin fell into his moody silence. It reminded Arthur too much of when they'd gone after the Dragonlord, when Merlin hadn't spoken for hours at a time, and instead stared off into space, looking as if his mind had flown miles away from his body. And, seeing as how wonderfully that adventure had turned out, Arthur felt the need to intervene. "Merlin," he said, riding up and alongside his manservant, "We have another two days and a night before Morgana's supposed to attack. Don't be so worried. We'll be ready for her, you'll see. And only one of the prophets said she'd win – he's probably the lying one."

"I'm not _worried_," Merlin answered immediately. Arthur stared at him, waiting. Merlin's eyebrows drew together, "Well, yeah, of course I'm worried. Camelot could be destroyed by the end of the week."

"Yes," Arthur said, "Or we'll finally have peace."

"Or it'll be destroyed," Merlin repeated, and Arthur could see his eyes growing even more distant, could feel Merlin drifting away.

"Aren't we feeling optimistic today?" Arthur said.

Merlin didn't answer. Just set his jaw and rode on through the woods, not looking anywhere but directly in front of himself. Arthur just frowned. Great, he thought, like he didn't already have enough on his plate. Now he had a surly Merlin to deal with as well.

"Seriously, though," Arthur said, "You really don't need to worry. I have a plan."

"Really?" Merlin sat a bit straighter on his horse.

"Well," Arthur said, rolling his eyes a little, "I sort of have a plan."

"Care to tell?"

"Not quite yet," Arthur said, "I'm working on it."

Merlin slumped down again in his saddle, not saying anything. Neither spoke until they rode into a clearing, and, sure enough, there it was. The blade was driven straight into the rock in the middle of the clearing. "Huh," Arthur said.

"Here we are," Merlin said, sliding off of his horse. He waved a hand at the clearing. "Sword. Stone. Told you so."

Arthur dismounted as well, and walked cautiously forward. Merlin followed just behind him. He stopped in front of the rock, staring at the hilt. "How would someone even get it in there?" Arthur said, "No one is strong enough to drive it straight into the rock, not without some sort of fissure already existing."

Merlin cleared his throat, and when he tried to talk only squeaked slightly. He cleared his throat again, and said, "Could've been, um, could've been magic. Maybe. You know, just guessing. Then again, maybe –"

"I suppose that would be an explanation," Arthur said grudgingly, more to stop Merlin's rambling than anything else. He circled the stone once. "What now?"

"I assume you're supposed to pull it out," Merlin said, "Then you can use it to stab people and to keep other people from stabbing –"

"I know the purpose of a sword," Arthur said.

"You asked," Merlin muttered.

Arthur felt yet another headache building in his temples. He reached forward, wrapping his hand around the grip. He paused, a small tingling running up his arm. Arthur braced himself, and gave the sword a tug. He expected it to stick, to pull against him – after all, it was plunged into the heart of a stone. Instead, it slid cleanly out, the metal thrumming as he stumbled backwards slightly.

Arthur held the sword in his hand, watching the way the light caught and refracted off of the blade. "It's beautiful," he said, and didn't bother to hide the reverence from his voice, "I've never seen its equal."

"Really?" Merlin said, and he sounded surprised.

"Well, not never," Arthur amended, "I can't shake the feeling I've seen this weapon before. I just…I don't know where I would've, it's been in a stone and all."

Merlin mumbled a jumble of words that weren't in any particular order or presented any sort of answer. Arthur paid him no heed. He admired the sword in his hand for another moment. "I wonder what the dryad meant," he said, "Made with dragon fire and loyalty for me. Where would someone get dragon fire, anyway?"

"From a dragon, I suppose," Merlin said, fidgeting slightly from foot to foot.

"Thank you," Arthur said, "Once again, you have stunned me with your dazzling intellect."

"I'm just saying," Merlin answered. Arthur frowned at him again. His servant wasn't even meeting his eyes anymore. Merlin noticed Arthur watching him, and said, "What?"

"Something's with you today," Arthur said, "And it's not just what you told me before."

"I'm fine," said Merlin, eyes twitching away.

"Right," Arthur said, and pointed his new sword in Merlin's general direction, "You tell me what's wrong, right now, or I'll be testing out this blade much sooner than anticipated."

Merlin glared at him, and Arthur wondered if he was calculating how serious Arthur was. Apparently having reached his decision, Merlin said, "You won't hurt me with your sword. You haven't even christened it yet. You can't do anything with an unnamed blade."

Once again, Arthur found himself taken aback by something Merlin had said. Merlin just blinked at him, and waited. "You're right," he said, and stared at the sword, slashing it through the air a few times, "A lady such as this needs a name. Do you have any ideas?"

"It isn't my decision," said Merlin, "It isn't my sword."

"Fair enough," Arthur said with a small shrug.

He twirled the sword in his hand again. It was as if the entire forest had taken a collective breath, and froze, waiting for Arthur's words. It was a silly thought, of course, but one that flitted through Arthur's mind nonetheless. Merlin had fallen quiet once again, watching Arthur from the edge of the clearing. "Excalibur," Arthur finally said, "I shall call it Excalibur."

Merlin considered it, and then nodded, "It's a good name."

It was at that moment that Arthur realized the woods had become silent, that it hadn't just been his imagination. "Merlin," he said, "Something's wrong."

"I told you," Merlin said, "I'm _fine_."

"Not with you, with here," Arthur said, inching around, "Do you have your sword?"

"I left it on the horse," Merlin answered, turning so that he and Arthur were standing back to back in the center of the clearing.

"And where's your horse?"

"It wandered off with yours!"

"Why didn't you stop it?"

"Look, I was a bit distracted by you sticking that thing," Merlin waved his hand spastically at Excalibur, "in my face."

"Merlin!" Arthur hissed, "For God's sake, we're alone in the woods!"

It was at that point that the six men sprang from the trees. They were all wearing armor with a black dragon emblem. They all had swords that Arthur could tell, at a glance, were fine blades. Nothing like the one he currently held, of course, by good craftsmanship nonetheless. All in all, the six were clearly not bandits.

"Actually," Merlin said, "It would appear we aren't alone in the woods."

"Just stay out of my way," Arthur said, again spinning Excalibur experimentally through the air, "Let me handle this."

"Well, well," one of the men said, "What have we here? That's a fancy pig-sticker you have there, boy. Why don't you just hand it over to us before you hurt yourself?"

"_Boy_?" Arthur said.

"_Pig sticker_?" Merlin said at the same time. From the tone of his voice, one would have thought that someone had just insulted his mother or something of equal scandal.

"Look, you clearly don't know who I am," Arthur said, "But I am telling you now, you want to back off."

"Oh, he's got a mouth on him," said one of the other men. Their leader – the man who'd first spoken – laughed quietly.

"My friend," said their leader, and drew his sword, "I think it's you who may want to back off."

"That's how you want it," Arthur answered, "Fine by me."

He shoved Merlin off to the side, sending him sprawling into the bushes with a yelp, and then Arthur charged. Fighting with Excalibur was like nothing Arthur had ever wielded before. In fact, as he fought the not-bandits off, he had trouble telling where his arm ended and the blade began. And, too soon, it was over, and all of the men were sprawled around in various degrees of wounded or dead.

"I _like_ this sword," Arthur said, smiling. He turned to find Merlin clutching a large stick, using it to prod at one of the fallen men. Arthur was about to make a comment, but then caught sight of the design on the men's armor. This time, he was able to get a very good look at it. It made his heart skip a beat. "Oh, no," he said.

"What is it?" Merlin asked.

Arthur looked at him, and said, "Their emblems. Doesn't it look familiar?"

"No," Merlin said, and then looked closer, "Wait, isn't that –"

"The crest of the Pendragons," Arthur said, "Only the colors are wrong – black and silver instead of red and gold."

"You don't think…" Merlin said, and trailed off, "Morgana?"

"Morgana," Arthur growled. He stared down at the fallen men a bit longer, and said, "We should go."

"But she isn't…" Merlin said, "Not for another few days."

"She doesn't attack until then," Arthur said, "But that doesn't mean she isn't skulking about. We're going, Merlin, now."

It wouldn't be until later, back at the castle, after enduring hours of panic control, council meetings, and war room conferences that Arthur came to two connected revelations. One, Merlin was much better at changing the subject than Arthur had anticipated. Two, Arthur still didn't know what it was that was bothering Merlin so much. He was tempted to just brush it off to Merlin being a pessimist and thinking they were all going to die – but that wasn't it. There was something else, something deeper than that.

With a groan, he pulled a pillow over his face, and prayed that he could just get through the week.

* * *

Merlin walked through the door to find Gaius waiting for him. "How did it go?" Gaius asked.

"Great," said Merlin, "Right up until we were attacked by some guys that we're fairly certain work for Morgana."

"Were you hurt?"

"No," Merlin said, sitting with a sigh, "What did you want to talk about? I'm really tired, and if the past two days have been any indication, I really need to get some sleep while I can."

"Alright," Gaius said, taking his spot across from his young ward, "Keep in mind that this is just a thought I was entertaining."

"O-_kay_," Merlin said, drawing the word out. He propped his chin on one hand, and fought to keep his eyes open.

"I'm wondering if you should tell Arthur that you have magic."

Merlin sat straight, no expression at all on his face. "Alright, who are you, what do you want, and where have you stashed Gaius?" he said, and then glanced suspiciously over at one of the many cabinets in the room.

"Please," Gaius said, "I am trying to be serious."

"I'm serious too," Merlin said, jumping to his feet, "Because Gaius is the one who's been telling me for almost four years now that the absolute last thing I should do is tell Arthur the truth."

"Settle down," the physician said. Merlin stared down defiantly at him, and then deflated. He sat. Gaius said, "Now, hear me out, and remember – this is just a thought I've had. It doesn't mean that you should run off in the morning and tell him, but it's something that we need to consider. It seems that no matter what we do, magic is going to be returning to Camelot, and you are going to be a part of it."

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but Gaius held a hand and cut him off before continuing.

"Merlin, really, let me finish," Gaius said, "We also have to consider the fifth day."

"Fifth?" Merlin said, crinkling his nose and trying to remember.

"It's when Morgana is going to find out the secret of the one that Arthur trusts the most, and try to use it," Gaius said, "And I think it's safe to assume that will be you."

"Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse…" Merlin muttered, burying his face in his hands.

Gaius smiled, not unkindly. "Think of it – how would you rather Arthur find out? From Morgana, or from yourself?"

Merlin looked up at his mentor. "I'm tired, Gaius," he finally said, "I'm just…I'm really tired."

"Go to sleep," Gaius said, "And remember that I'm not telling you that this is what you should do. It's just something worth considering."

Merlin nodded, and stumbled up to his room. There were so many different thoughts bouncing around his head, fear that he'd have another nightmare, anticipation that maybe, maybe things would be okay, that he was positive he would never fall asleep. He was wrong, and was out cold seconds after his head hit the pillow.


	4. The Third Day

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to Shine and BBC, I own squat.  
AN – This Author's Note, much like Kvothe's story in the Kingkiller Chronicles, comes to you in three parts. (OMG. I've just finished Wise Man's Fear, and it is spectacular! If any of you are looking for a fantastic read, track down a copy of The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss RIGHT NOW and read it. Seriously. It's one of the best books I've ever read)

One - As always, thanks so much for the feedback!

Two – Remember when I said it would be a bit until I updated? I accidentally lied. Um. Yeah. I work at an information desk, and basically get paid to sit on the computer. Awesome, I know. Anyway, the point is that I picked up some extra shifts this weekend, and thus got a lot more done on this here ficcy-doo than I was anticipating. So much yay, right? Haha. Yeeaaaah...

Three – Thanks for helping me out with explaining Canadian politics! :D

ON WITH THE FIC.

* * *

_The Third Day_

* * *

"Time to wake up," Merlin said, pulling back the curtains.

Arthur groaned, and waited for the chatter to start. It didn't. He cracked open an eye to find Merlin arranging his food on the table, silent. "You," he said, sitting up and pointing, "Are very much starting to concern me."

"Sire?" Merlin asked.

"You're on time, for one," Arthur said, standing, "You're not being obnoxious. Not to mention, of course, the fact that you've done everything that you're supposed to do yet you never actually seem to accomplish."

"I'm sorry, but just to make sure I understand," Merlin said, "Are you reprimanding me for doing a good job?"

"Yes!" Arthur said, pulling his shirt on. "You're being competent. Stop it. I don't like it."

"I'm confused."

"You got out of this yesterday, Merlin, but I'm not letting it go this time."

"Not letting what go?" Merlin asked. He was only meeting Arthur's eyes in the most darting of glances.

"This," Arthur said, waving his hand, "This…whatever it is that's messing with you. You're going to tell me."

Merlin hesitated. "You really want to know?"

"Yes," said Arthur, "You're completely useless to me when you're like this."

Merlin didn't say anything, and just chewed on his bottom lip, fidgeting slightly. It did little to make Arthur feel better about the whole thing.

"Whatever it is, you can trust me," Arthur said, "You know that, don't you?"

"I do," Merlin said quickly, "And it isn't that I don't trust you. It's just that…it's difficult to say."

"Try me," Arthur said, taking a large bite of bread.

"Alright," Merlin said, "Here it goes. I have –"

A knock at the door cut him off. Merlin sighed, and went to answer it. "Message for the prince," said a voice from the hall. Merlin stepped aside and let a serving boy in, loitering by the door. He was pale, and every muscle was tensed. Arthur waved at the serving boy to talk, eager to get him out of the room to get to the problem that was Merlin. "Gaius the physician wishes to see you in your father's chambers at your earliest convenience, Sire."

"Did he say why?"

"No, Sire."

Arthur nodded, and dismissed the serving boy. His already anxious mood grew darker, and all thoughts of his surly manservant's problems were pushed to the back of his mind. "Merlin," he said, "Has Gaius said anything to you about my father's condition?"

"No," Merlin said slowly, "Nothing beyond the fact that he was the same as always."

In the months following Morgana's attack on the city and her family, Uther had stayed in a less than sane frame of mind. On the rare occasion the king wasn't staring blankly at the walls of his chambers, he saw magic everywhere he looked. All of the serving staff permitted to see him – Merlin among them – had been sentenced to death due to the crime of sorcery at least six times. Of all of them, as far as Arthur could tell, Merlin was the only one who was still jumpy when it happened.

"Not that he was worsening?" Arthur said.

Merlin shrugged, and said, "No. Besides, you'd be the first that Gaius would tell, wouldn't you?"

Arthur nodded, suddenly no longer hungry. He stood, and said, "I might as well get this out of the way now."

He walked from the room, and Merlin scampered along behind him. As they walked, Merlin said, "Look, about what I was saying before –"

"Later, Merlin," Arthur said, "Whatever it is can wait. I need to go and see to my father."

"But it's really impor –"

"That wasn't a request," Arthur snapped, and then some of the anger drained away at the hurt that briefly flashed across Merlin's face. "Look, just…go muck out my stables. The world may be ending, but that's no excuse for the state of the place."

"Yes, Sire," Merlin muttered, and sighed, slumping away. Arthur heard him mutter under his breath, "You're the one who wanted to know."

Gwaine materialized out of seemingly nowhere to walk next to Arthur, stepping cleanly into Merlin's place, and said, "Alright, Princeling, what did you do this time?"

"I don't know!" Arthur said, and pointed in the direction that Merlin had gone off in, "But there's something wrong with him."

"Oh, I knew that," Gwaine said, flipping his hair.

Arthur paused. "You do?" he asked. Merlin had told Gwaine whatever it was that's bothering him? He'd told Gwaine and not Arthur? _Gwaine?_

"Yes," Gwaine said, and tapped his temple. "He's completely insane. He likes you, doesn't he?"

"Gwaine."

"Seriously, though," Gwaine said, "There's things wrong with everybody this week. The entire city's gone twitchy."

"Not like Merlin," Arthur said, "It's…he's so not acting like himself that it's – could you go talk to him? I don't have time."

Gwaine saluted sloppily, and said, "Consider it done."

* * *

"My Lady Gwen, lovely as the sun," Gwaine said, sweeping into an elaborate bow and kissing her hand.

Gwen rolled her eyes, and said, "What do you want?"

"Want?" he answered, "Why do I have to be wanting something?"

"You're only courtly when it suits you," she said, and pulled her hand from his grip. She crossed her arms and stared at him. "So what do you want?"

He stared back, and then deflated. "I'm looking for Merlin," he said, "Have you seen him?"

"I think he's in the stables," she said, "Is he alright? He looked kind of…off."

"Which is why I'm going to go talk to him," Gwaine said, "He's too serious for our prince's liking."

"And Arthur sent you?" Gwen asked.

"I can do it," Gwaine said, "It'll be easy."

"Right," Gwen said, "And what, I shudder to ask, is your plan?"

Gwaine paused for a moment, considering, but then he said, "I'll get him drunk. Everyone talks once they're drunk."

"Have you met Merlin?" Gwen said, and rolled her eyes. "I've known him for four years, and I've only seen him drunk that once."

She said it to try and dissuade the knight from his plan. Instead, as Gwaine's eyes got wide as saucers, she contemplated that her plan may've backfired on her. "You've seen Merlin drunk?"

"Yes…"

"Guinevere," Gwaine said, serious as if he were at a funeral, "It is one of my goals in life to see Merlin drunk. What happened? How did it happen? Why –"

"I rather think you're missing the point," she said, "We need to figure out what's bothering him, and just trust me – even if you somehow managed to get him drunk, he wouldn't talk. Sing, maybe. But not talk."

The look on Gwaine's face was one of pure and utter joy. "_Singing_?"

Gwen sighed, and shook her head. "Gwaine," she said, "If you figure out what's wrong, I swear on my life that I will tell you the whole story. Deal?" She stuck out her hand for him to shake.

"I was going to help anyway," Gwaine said, wringing her hand, "But you've given me a much better deal. And I want the whole story – nothing left out."

"Fine," Gwen said, "But only once you've talked to Merlin. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Gwaine said, and then frowned, "Wait, we?"

"Yes," Gwen said, "Getting Merlin to accept help is like trying to feed a deer from your hand. It takes stages, little bits at a time. If you just rush at him, you won't get anything. But, if you move closer, slowly and little by little…The point is, you're going to go and talk to him now, and I will later. Just…be nice. And no alcohol."

After several more minutes of arguing, Gwaine walked off towards the stables. He had promised Gwen that he wouldn't try to get Merlin drunk. Well. At least not this week. But as he walked in, he could see Lancelot standing next to one of the corrals that held Arthur's horses, talking to Merlin as the servant shoveled it out with a pitchfork.

" – to tell Arthur," Merlin was saying.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Lancelot responded, "Maybe you should wait until after this week is done."

"It's not as simple as that," Merlin said, "There're…things that are factoring in, now. That weren't there before. I just – it's complicated. There's more going on right now than anyone really knows."

"How so?" Lancelot answered. Gwaine hung back, listening in. It was quiet. Then Lancelot spoke again, seemingly jumping tactics, "Merlin, you've been keeping this a secret as long as I've known you. Why now?"

"It's just…" Merlin said, "It's all a bit muddled, right now. Look, I need to get this done. Can we talk about this another time?"

A sigh from Lancelot. "Alright," the knight said.

Gwaine took it as his cue to enter. "Merlin!" he said brightly, and nodded at Lancelot, "Sir Prancelot."

"Lancelot."

"What?"

"Lancelot. My name is Lancelot."

"Why?" Gwaine said, blinking innocently, "What did I say?"

Merlin snorted quietly and smothered something of a laugh. Lancelot grinned himself, albeit with a bit of an annoyed twinge in it. "Well," Lancelot said, "I have to be off any which way. Merlin."

The servant looked up, rather apprehensively, "Later, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Lancelot said, and nodded at Gwaine, and left the stables. Merlin just continued to muck.

Gwaine watched him for a moment, then grabbed a pitchfork and said to Merlin, "Sit down and take a rest."

"I have to finish this."

"No, you don't," Gwaine said, and tapped the prongs of the tool in his hand against the floor, "So sit down before I am forced to make you."

Merlin paused, blinking in a very owl-esque manner. "Are you threatening me with a pitchfork?"

"A bit," Gwaine said, and looked at the pitchfork with a new appreciation for it, "Although I'll admit it didn't pick it up with that in mind. I'm going to do this so you don't have any excuses while we have a bit of a chat."

"No, Gwaine," Merlin said, shaking his head, "You're a knight. Knights don't clean stables."

"You're my friend, and knights help friends out," Gwaine answered, and jabbed the pitchfork in Merlin's general direction, "Sit down. If you make me tell you again, I will order you to, and you know how much I hate ordering people to do things. It makes me seem like a noble."

"You are a noble," Merlin said, but leaned the pitchfork he was using against a wall before settling down on a barrel.

Gwaine rolled his eyes, "Don't remind me," he said, and began working.

"What did you want to talk about?" Merlin asked.

"You've been skittish," Gwaine said, "Even Arthur's noticed it, and Arthur never notices anything."

"It's nothing," Merlin said, "I'm just tired."

"Bullshit," Gwaine said.

"Horse shit, actually," Merlin corrected with a small smile. But the joke, the smile…both were forced, not quite real.

"Clever," Gwaine said, deciding not to push it. "But, really, my friend – if there's something bothering you, you can tell me. I won't judge you anymore than I already do."

"It's nothing," Merlin said again, "I'm fine."

Gwaine made the decision to change the subject. "Merlin," he said, "I've heard the most interesting story about you from Guinevere."

"Oh?" Merlin said, looking apprehensive and amused at the same time. Gwaine took it as a small victory. "And what story was that?"

"Well, I haven't heard the whole story yet," Gwaine said, "But let's just say, for now, that it involves you, drinking, and singing."

Ah, the look on Merlin's face. Gwaine had seen looks less horrified on a battlefield. "Oh, _God_," Merlin said, "There'll be no living with you after this."

Gwaine smiled devilishly and chuckled. "No," he said, "No, there will not."

Lancelot came walking back in, his presence and posture destroying the comfortable atmosphere that had built up in the stables. "There's a problem," he said. The look on his face was grave. He jerked his head, "Would you two join me outside, please?"

"What is it?" Gwaine pressed.

"I don't know," Lancelot answered. Merlin trailed along behind him. "But when I walked out of the stables, Gwen was there. She's really upset, said that she was looking for you, Merlin."

"Really?" Merlin said, "Did she say what it was?"

Lancelot shook his head, and pointed over to where Gwen was sitting alone on a bench, wringing a handkerchief in her hands. It was painfully clear that she'd been crying. Merlin pushed past the two knights – both of who hung back uncertainly – and sat down next to Gwen. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I've just spoken to Arthur," Gwen said, and sniffed, "Uther's dying."

"Oh, hell," Gwaine said.

"Gaius?" Merlin asked.

"He's the one who told Arthur," said Gwen.

"Where is he?" Merlin said, "Arthur, I mean."

"With his father," said Gwen, "I mean, there's no love lost between Uther and I – not after all…but this, with everything else…Arthur already has so much he has to deal with, and now _this_." She broke off with a small, shaking sob, and buried her face in the handkerchief.

"Did Gaius tell Arthur why, or how?" Lancelot said.

Gwen took a shaky breath. "He's stopped responding," she said, "Won't eat, won't drink. He, um...I guess he fell asleep last night and now no one can wake him."

They sat in silence, Gwen quietly crying. Merlin's face grew more and more serious by the minute.

"What are you thinking?" Lancelot asked, once Gwen had calmed a little. They began walking up towards the castle, and at Lancelot's question, they all stopped.

"Love and duty," Merlin answered, his mouth drawn into a grim line, "I think we've stumbled over the love half. I had assumed it would be something to do with Gwen, but…" he trailed off with a shrug, and Gwen bit her bottom lip, hugging herself a little.

"Today is going to be a bloody drama, like what the troupers put on and the minstrels sing about," Gwaine said, "Isn't it?"

"I think," said Merlin, setting off towards the castle with one arm settle around Gwen's shoulders, "That this whole week is going to be like that." To Gwen, he said, "Let's go find Arthur, yeah?"

Lancelot started to follow, but Gwaine put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "You," he said, "You know what's bothering Merlin, and you're going to tell me."

Lancelot pulled his arm away, and said, "I'm certain that I don't know what you mean."

"I heard you before," Gwaine said, "Merlin's going to tell Arthur a secret, and you don't think it's a good idea, and now you're going to tell me what it is before Merlin does something stupid that he will no doubt regret as soon as he does it."

"No, I'm not," Lancelot said.

"But its Merlin," Gwaine said, "And –"

"Gwaine," Lancelot said, eyebrows drawing together, "_No_. It isn't my secret to tell."

"I'm worried about him," Gwaine said.

Lancelot's face softened considerably at his words. "I know that," Lancelot said, "And if it makes you feel any better, I only know because of chance, not because he told me. I don't think he's actually told anyone."

"You would let me know if he was in trouble though," Gwaine pressed, "Wouldn't you?"

Lancelot didn't answer, and walked away. It did little to help Gwaine's rising nerves.

* * *

Later that night, Merlin quietly walked into Arthur's chambers. Arthur was standing by the window, staring listlessly out and cracking his knuckles. Merlin puttered uselessly around, doing busy work and hoping that Arthur would speak first and spare Merlin from the responsibility. He had went to Uther's chambers with Gaius before coming to find Arthur. He and the physician had tried everything they could think of - magic and non-magic alike - but nothing would rouse the mad king. "I, um," Merlin said, "I'm sorry about your father. If you -"

"I don't want to talk about it," Arthur said. They both pointedly ignored the way his words shook ever so slightly.

Merlin cleared his throat. "What do you need me to do?"

"First, take this," Arthur said, and pushed a dagger into Merlin's hands. It was a subtly elegant weapon, neither flashy nor bare. The only decoration was the Pendragon seal worked into the hilt. Merlin held it a distance from him as if it may attack at any moment of its own accord.

"Um, thanks," Merlin said, and tried to ignore the panic that rose in his stomach every time he looked at the dagger, "But I, uh, I don't want it."

"It doesn't matter," Arthur said, "You'll need it when you go. It's the only thing that I could find on short notice with the seal that you could carry and wouldn't draw attention to yourself with. If you get into trouble, show it and they'll know you're acting as a vassal of Camelot. It should help you either bargain or, at least, make them think twice before hurting you."

"Who's doing what now?" Merlin asked, completely bewildered, "Why are people going to hurt me? Where am I going? What's –"

"I can't go, I have to stay here with my father," Arthur said, as if Merlin hadn't spoken, and his voice came dangerously to cracking on the last word. But he cleared his throat, and pushed onward, "But…do you remember the plan that I mentioned?"

"Your sort of plan?" Merlin said.

Arthur nodded. "I need your utmost digression on this, Merlin. I mean it. I'm putting you in charge, alright? I'm going to send Gwaine and Lancelot with you," Arthur ran a hand through his hair, "But you have to be careful. Talk to Gaius to find out where the Druids are, he'll probably know. They'll know, I think, and you'll have to get them to tell you."

"Um, Arthur – "

"I know, Merlin, I know, it's my duty to go. But I…my father. I think that I'm supposed to choose love in this one. I have to. And I'd go, I really would, but you're here, and I'm fairly certain that I can trust you to do this. I need you to swear, though. Swear that you'll be careful. Don't go wandering off alone, not for a second. Stay with Gwaine and Lancelot. Do you understand? Swear it on your life, or my life, or Gaius's life. Swear it on –"

"I'm going to stop you," said Merlin, holding up a hand, "Because I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about."

"Didn't I say?" Arthur said.

Merlin shook his head no.

"Oh," said Arthur, "You're going to go and find Emrys."


	5. The Fourth Day

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to Shine and BBC, I make nothing off of this.  
AN –This AN, much like the main characters on How I Met Your Mother, comes to you with five components.

ONE – This chapter is for **Capt Cow**, who quite some time ago requested whumpage of a certain knight. Heh.

TWO – I had fun writing this chapter. Once you get to the end you can decide if that makes me a terrible person or not.

THREE – This turned into a beasty-beast of a chapter. I almost spit it into two, but then I didn't because I'm lazy. Besides, I generally like longer bits with lots in them than shorter bits without quite as much. Maybe that's just me. Well, we'll see!

FOUR – Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews!

FIVE - The alternate title for this chapter, if anyone happens to be interested, is Things Go Wrong Wedensday. :)

* * *

_The Fourth Day_

* * *

To say that Merlin slept poorly that night was a rather massive understatement. Most of the night consisted of staring at the ceiling, replaying his conversation with Arthur over and over in his mind. After Arthur had said The Sentence –"You're going to go and find Emrys" – the prince had prattled on for a bit. Merlin had just stood there, the dagger dangling from nerveless fingers, mouth hanging open. His mind had simply ground to a halt, and nothing beyond that sentence got through to him.

Really, in retrospect, he should've told Arthur then. But by the time he managed to find the wits to say something, anything, he'd already been dismissed and physically pushed from the room. And even then, it was just to announce to the empty hall and closed door at his back, a high pitched and manic, "_What_?"

Even Gaius had been rendered speechless by the turn of events. Finally, the physician had said, "Maybe you should go."

"_What_?" Merlin said, "Gaius, what part of I am Emrys are you forgetting? I know where I am. There is nothing to go and find!"

"You have only two choices," Gaius said, "Either you tell Arthur the truth now, or you go. If you go, you could have a chance to talk to the dragon. I really think that we need his opinion on this whole thing."

Merlin had to give the idea it's due credit. He'd been unable to sneak out to consult the dragon, as Arthur had enforced a curfew, and Merlin had been consistently too tired to try and flee the city walls.

Which led to his sleepless night, spent tossing and turning. He did fall asleep at one point, but it was only to be jolted awake again by another nightmare. He gave up sometime after sunrise, and thudded down the stairs to where Gaius was fiddling around with things in the room.

"Good morning, Merlin," Gaius said, "Did you sleep well?"

"I hate my life."

"I've packed you some food," Gaius said, ignoring Merlin's response. "And I've put your dagger in your bag as well."

"D'you think that Arthur gave it to me so I could just, you know, off myself?" Merlin said, "It would solve a lot of problems…"

"Don't joke about things like that," Gaius said, and glared, "Say something like that again, and I'll find a reason to put you in the stocks."

Merlin wilted. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean it. It's just how do I tell Gwaine and Lancelot that we're going to find myself?"

"Lancelot knows about your magic," Gaius mused, "And of all the other knights, Gwaine would probably be the most open minded."

"I know, I know," Merlin said, and ran a hand through his hair, "I'd better go. I'm meeting them down by the stables."

"Merlin, wait," Gaius said, and then gave the warlock a hug. "Be careful," the physician said, "I know I tell you that a lot, but…just be sure to come back."

Merlin hugged him back, and nodded. He was convinced that if he spoke, he would start to cry. So, with one last glance at Gaius, he walked out of the room. He was surprised to find Gwaine walking towards him.

"Good morning!" the knight said brightly, turning to fall into step next to Merlin.

"Says who?" Merlin answered.

Gwaine laughed, and said, "Well, someone's feeling auspicious about our little outing."

"I thought we were meeting at the stables," said Merlin, "Am I really that late?"

"No," Gwaine said, "I just got tired of waiting, so here I am."

Merlin hummed in response.

"Arthur said that he's given you the seal," Gwaine said as they walked, "For when things inevitably go terribly, terribly wrong."

"Yes," Merlin said, "It's on a dagger."

"He gave you a dagger?" Gwaine asked, "You?"

Merlin snorted. "Don't even start," he said, "Because, trust me, I've thought of most of what you'd say already."

"Can I see it?"

"You can hold onto it, if you want," Merlin said, stopping to rummage around in his pack, "I can't stand the thing." But he couldn't find it.

"Well?" Gwaine prompted.

"I must've left it up at Gaius's," Merlin said, frowning, "But I could've sworn he said that he put it in here."

"We'd best go find it," the knight said, turning on his heel, "Before it ends up in someone's back. That would be hard to explain, wouldn't it?"

"You don't have to come," Merlin said, "I'll just go and get it – I'll meet you by the stables, yeah?"

Gwaine shrugged, and waved him off. Merlin jogged away. But as soon as he rounded the corner, he stopped with a gasp. The punch of magic was like someone had sunk their fist into Merlin's stomach. There was a yell of alarm from around the corner. Merlin thought back to what the dryad had told Arthur, about a knight being struck down. "Gwaine," he whispered, and ran back the way he came.

The sight that greeted him was one that would haunt him for years.

Gwaine, face down and unconscious, a rapidly growing patch of red on the back of his shirt. The dagger that Arthur had given Merlin lying on the ground next to the knight, equally covered in blood. Merlin ran forward, pulling off his neckerchief and pressing it to the wound.

Something moved, down at the opposite end of the hall. Merlin looked up and noticed _her_ standing there for the first time. Long dark hair. A cloak. Blue, icy eyes. Morgana smirked, and vanished in a blast of wind before Merlin could do anything beyond process the fact that she'd been here, that she'd stabbed Gwaine in the back. Why would she do that? What the hell could she possibly hope to gain from hurting Gwaine, of all people? How did she even get _in_?

Distantly, Merlin heard someone come running down the hall. Then, Leon knelt next to Merlin, taking over putting pressure on Gwaine's wound. He sent a squire running for Gaius. "What happened?" the knight demanded. Merlin didn't answer. He was still to shocked at the fact that Morgana had been here. She had gotten into the castle. She had tried to murder Gwaine. Leon, meanwhile, snapped, "Merlin!"

He turned wide eyes at the knight.

Leon, however, was staring at the bloodied dagger on the ground. "Merlin," he said, "That's the knife Arthur gave you. He showed it to me."

Well, there was one answer, at the very least. Morgana was there to frame Merlin.

"I-I-I didn't," Merlin stuttered, and he wasn't sure if his voice or hands were shaking more, "I could never, especially not to Gwaine –"

"I am aware," Leon growled, "But your knife was in his back and his blood is covering you. The council may not judge you as fairly."

There was the sound of the warning bell ringing, tramping feet of the guards. Leon glanced up. "Get out of here, Merlin," he barked, "Go!"

"But –"

"_Go_!" he roared.

Merlin glanced down one last time at Gwaine's still form. Then, he ran. He hated himself for every step he took.

And then, Merlin did a very, very stupid thing. A thing that he would regret in the days to come. Instead of going up to hide in his room until someone sent for him, Merlin set off in the opposite direction, not even quite paying attention to where his feet were leading him. It wasn't until he was standing at the top of the stairs that he considered the stupidity of what he was doing. He continued on anyway.

He went down to the vaults.

It was a simple matter of a whispered spell to unlock the doors. It drew him in, past the magical artifacts and spell books. Covered in its velvet bag, the crystal was calling to him. Merlin stood in front of it. The only sound was his hitched breathing, his heart hammering in his ears. He reached forward, all the while thinking of all the reasons he shouldn't be doing this. Crystals were treacherous. Crystals made everything go wrong. Crystals were dangerously close to being dark magic.

But what if it could tell him? What if it could show what was going to happen at the end of the week? What if he could know – right now – if Gwaine would be alright, and if Merlin himself was going to go around the bend or not? What if it could tell him where Morgana was, what she was planning exactly? It was worth the risk.

With shaking hands, he reached out for the bag that held the crystal. He stopped. His hands were still coated with sticky blood. Gwaine's blood. "No," Merlin whispered, and backed away, "No, what's wrong with me?"

"Hey!" someone called out. Merlin whirled around to find five guards staring at him with wide eyes. He could only imagine how he looked to them: Pale, haggard, huge circles under his eyes, coated with blood, standing among powerful and magical objects. The one in the front, holding a torch, spoke again, "This area is forbidden. You're under arrest!"

Merlin couldn't process it as they pulled his arms behind his back. He couldn't pull his thoughts together long enough to even consider using magic to try and get away. And, as they marched him up the hall to the throne room, all he could think about was that Gaius was going to be so disappointed with him. He blamed it on the fact that he was running on a ridiculously low amount of sleep that he let them drag him back the way he'd come.

It was only faced with the heavy, wooden doors of the throne room that Merlin realized they were taking him to Arthur.

"Oh," he said, "Oh, no."

* * *

"Gaius says that the wound was deep," Leon explained, "But missed any vital areas. Gwaine should make a full recovery."

"Thank God," Arthur said. His day, until this point, had been spent running back forth from his father's rooms to the throne room to prepare for the impending invasion. He had been relieved when Leon walked in – anything to distract him, if only for a moment – but that relief quickly fled once the knight delivered the news that Gwaine had been attacked. "Did you catch who did it?"

Leon hesitated.

"Sir Leon," Arthur repeated, "Did you catch who did it?"

"This is the weapon that was used to attack him," the knight said, and presented Arthur with the bloodied dagger. A dagger that had the crest of the Pendragons on it. A dagger that looked remarkably similar to the one he had given to Merlin. Identical, even. Leon continued, "And when I rounded the corner, the only one's there were Gwaine and…" he trailed off, hesitating again.

"Go on," Arthur prompted.

"Gwaine and Merlin, Sire," Leon said, "The knife was on the floor, and Merlin appeared to be trying to stop the wound from bleeding. I sent him off before the guards arrived. I don't know who actually did it, but with the evidence there, someone who didn't know the boy might draw the wrong conclusions."

"Thanks for that," he said, "Where is Merlin now?"

"I don't know," Leon said.

"Find him for me, would you?" Arthur said, "Find him and bring him here. And find Lancelot, too."

Leon bowed, and walked to the door, and pulled it open. He stopped, and then turned to Arthur and, clearing his throat, said, "I, uh, I've found Merlin."

And then a group of five guards dragged his servant in. "What's going on?" Arthur asked, looking from face to face. His eyes landed on Merlin, and he took note of the fact that his hands were tied behind his back. "Why is he bound?"

"We found him in the vaults," said one of the guards, "He'd picked the lock or something, Sire."

Leon backed out the room, saying, "I'll just go and find Lancelot, then," and all but fled.

Arthur dismissed the guards, and just glared at Merlin. He left the handcuffs on. He was angry – well and truly angry. Most of it wasn't actually because of Merlin, but the servant surely wasn't helping matters. "How did you lose the dagger?"

Merlin shook his head, "I don't know. I didn't think that I had. I just –"

"You lost it, and then someone used it to stab Gwaine in the back," Arthur growled. "Someone's clearly trying to frame you, there, but…this."

"Morgana did it," Merlin whispered, "I saw her there, but she got away."

Arthur shook his head. Of course it had been Morgana. Who the else would it have been? "Thank you, but you're trying to change the subject. You were in the vaults," Arthur said, and threw his arms into the air, "What the hell were you doing down there?"

"I…I…" Merlin said, and shook his head, "It's complicated."

"Tell me," Arthur ordered. Merlin shook his head again. So Arthur thundered, "Now!"

"Please, Arthur," Merlin said, and met his gaze squarely for the first time in days, "Please, don't make me lie to you. I'm sick of it."

"What?" Arthur said, voice low and dangerous, "What did you just say?"

It was at that point that Merlin's brain apparently caught up with the rest of him. His mouth dropped open and he sputtered wordlessly. "I-I just meant," he said, and paused, and then said, "Do you remember when I was trying to tell you something yesterday?"

"Yes."

"And," Merlin said, still fidgeting, "You said that I could trust you, no matter what it is."

"Yes," Arthur said, "Whatever it is, you have five seconds to spit it out."

Merlin took a deep breath, "I have –"

The door opened, and Lancelot came in, saying, "You sent for me?"

Arthur held up a hand, silencing the knight, still staring intently at Merlin. "You have what, Merlin?" he growled, "What could you possibly have that justifies breaking into the vaults?"

Merlin licked his lips, and his eyes jerked over to Lancelot and back to Arthur. "I-I…I have," he said, and then stopped. His shoulders slumped, and his gaze fell to the floor. It was like Arthur could see all of the fight simply draining out of him. "I have no excuse. I don't know what I was thinking," Merlin said, "I'm sorry. One minute I was with Gwaine and Leon, and the next I was down in the vaults. I'm…I apologize."

And then he was lying, just like that, and not meeting Arthur's eyes anymore. Merlin was lying through his teeth, and Arthur knew it.

"The council is going to want to lock you up, you know that, right?" Arthur said, "I can't pardon you, not without holding a trial first. I'm only regent – I need the permission of the council to do almost anything. I can't just let you run free while the council all thinks you're a thief who tried to kill Gwaine in order to gain access to the vaults. My God, Merlin, they're going to think you're some sort of sorcerer, do you realize that?"

Merlin flinched at the words. Arthur did his best not to reflect on what that meant. "I didn't hurt Gwaine," Merlin said, "I swear–"

"Of course you didn't," Arthur said, "There's no way in heaven or hell that you could take Gwaine, even if he was drunk and blindfolded. But we don't have time to hold a trial right now so that we can clear your name. So what we're going to do is this – you are going to stand right where you are, and you're not going to move. I'm going to talk to Lancelot, and you are not. Going. To move."

"Yes, Sire," Merlin whispered.

Arthur stared at him for a moment longer, and then pulled Lancelot off to the side. "I'm about to ask something of you that goes beyond your duty, Sir Lancelot," Arthur said, "Will you listen?"

"Yes, Sire."

"I have no choice but to send Merlin to the dungeons," the prince said, "I want you to be the one to deliver him there. You are still going to go and find Emrys, though, the same as before except without Gwaine. Do you understand?"

"I don't –"

Arthur pressed the key to Merlin's handcuffs into Lancelot's hand, "As far as I am concerned, when you leave this room, it will be to take Merlin down to the dungeons," he said, "Anything that happens after that is out of my control. Say, if someone were to take him and leave the city, for instance, to go and search out the Druids. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"And," Arthur said, "You'll do it?"

"I will," he said, and closed his fist around the key.

"Lancelot," Arthur said, and pointed over at Merlin, "Don't let him out of your sight for a second."

"Not even for a moment," Lancelot agreed, "But why, may I ask –"

"Something the dryad said," Arthur answered, "And, you know, if there's trouble to be found, then Merlin will run to it with open arms. But you don't let him wander away. Ever. You stay with him. If anything happens, I will hold you personally responsible. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Sire," Lancelot said, "I'll guard him with everything I have."

"I know," Arthur said, and took a deep breath. When he turned and walked back to where Merlin was standing, his face was as impassive as a mask. "You will be taken by Lancelot from this room," Arthur said, "I'm having you sent to the dungeons. You may or may not get there."

Merlin nodded, and said, "I understand."

Arthur was slightly taken aback. "Really?"

"Um," Merlin said, "I could hear you, actually. Noise carries really well in here."

"Fine," Arthur said, "Then get out of here."

Merlin swallowed thickly, and said, "In case I don't see you –"

"Don't be a girl," Arthur said, ignoring the sudden lump in his own throat.

"Yeah, but," Merlin said, "If things go wrong, I just wanted to say –"

"Merlin," Arthur said, "Don't."

And then Lancelot took Merlin by the arm and pulled him from the room. The door slammed behind them. There was an air of finality to it that Arthur couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried. Then, clearing his throat in the empty room, he turned his attentions to the fact that his half-sister had apparently managed to gain access to the castle.

* * *

As soon as they were in the hall, Lancelot released Merlin from the handcuffs. "Let's go," he said, "The horses are waiting."

"I've still got blood on my hands," Merlin said, swallowing thickly.

"We'll take care of it later," Lancelot said, "But we have to go, now."

Merlin nodded, and they walked down to the stables. Lancelot told Merlin what he'd heard from Leon regarding Gwaine's condition. They rode from the city, and stopped briefly at a river. Merlin began to scrub at his hands. He tried not to think about lying to Arthur, about Gwaine bleeding out on the floor, about any of it. He failed, entirely.

"Don't worry so much about it," Lancelot said, predicting the way that Merlin's thoughts were going, "We know where the Druids are, and they'll tell us where Emrys is."

"Actually, we aren't –"

"And once we find him, we'll talk to him," the knight continued, "And we'll get him to see reason. I mean, if you and I aren't an example of the good that's in Camelot, I don't know what is. And besides, if we can't stop him, we'll take him down. I think –"

"We aren't going to the Druids," Merlin said, "It would only be a waste of time."

He couldn't put a halt on the smile that stretched across his face. "You already know who Emrys is, don't you?"

"Yes," Merlin said. He stood, drying his hands on his pants and shifting his weight from foot to foot. He wouldn't look the knight in the face, and had his hands behind his back. For all the world, he looked like a little boy about to be reprimanded.

"It's more than that," Lancelot continued, "You know where he is."

"Um," Merlin said, "You could say that, yes."

"And that's what's been bothering you."

"In a manner of speaking –"

"_Merlin_!" Lancelot said, "That's fantastic! We'll save so much time. And since you know him, it'll be easier to talk to him. Where do we –"

"Lancelot, _stop_," Merlin said, his voice shaking, "There's something…I have to tell you something."

Lancelot did. Merlin was pale in the muted light of the forest, still fidgeting and not meeting Lancelot's eyes, staring at the ground.

"I'm the one we're trying to find," Merlin finally said.

"What?" Lancelot said, "What do you –"

"I'm Emrys," Merlin said, and blinked back at suddenly glassy eyes, "It's me. I'm…it's me, I'm him."

Lancelot paused. He considered Merlin's words carefully, and then did the only thing that he could. He laughed.

Merlin blinked rapidly. "I'm being serious."

"I-I know," Lancelot said, still chuckling slightly, "It's just – wow. _Wow._ Of all the things I thought you were going to say, that was the last."

"Look," Merlin said, "I have had a really long day, and…and…" he trailed off, chewing on his lip.

"I'm sorry," Lancelot said, pulling himself together. "I'm sorry, it's just that I wish I had known before. It would have made this week a lot easier."

"Easier?" Merlin said, "I've been having to listen about how I'm going to destroy the kingdom –"

Lancelot laughed again, and said, "You're not going to destroy anything." He caught sight of the serious look on Merlin's face, and then added, "Are you?"

Merlin shook himself, and said, "Not willingly."

Hell, Lancelot thought, that certainly was in the running for 'most ominous thought of the week'.

"So," Lancelot said, more to say something, "If we aren't going to the druids, where are we going?"

"To talk to Kilgarrah."

"And Kilgarrah is…?"

"A, um, he's the dragon," Merlin said.

"Arthur killed the dragon," Lancelot said with a frown, "Didn't he?"

"He's under that impression, yes," Merlin said, "And I'd like to keep it that way, if at all possible."

Lancelot snorted, and then a thought occurred to him. "But only Dragonlords can – never mind," he said, waving a hand, "I don't need to know. I have enough secrets of yours locked in my head. Where do we find this dragon of yours?"

"I have to call him," Merlin said, and again scuffed at the ground with his toe. If Lancelot didn't know any better, he'd have said that Merlin looked self-conscious. With a small, internal shrug, he realized that Merlin probably was. "Then we'll go a bit further away from the castle, and wait for him to come while, hopefully, we don't get killed by Morgana and her army."

"Is it bad that the part that sounds the worst is that last bit?" Lancelot asked, and Merlin grinned.

"Welcome to my life," he said.

Lancelot motioned with his hand, and said, "Well, then, Merlin Emrys – call the dragon."

And Merlin did. It wasn't how Lancelot had expected. He had pictured some sort of flashing light, a loud crash of thunder, the dragon suddenly appearing. True, the roaring words that Merlin yelled out sent a slight shiver down his spine and up again, but that was it. Merlin looked over at him (definitely self-consciously this time) and said, "Um, I've never actually done that in front of anyone before."

"Really?"

"Well, I mean, I've done it in front of unconscious people, but I don't think that really counts," Merlin amended, and then smiled slightly, "He's on his way, by the way. I think he's kind of far away, but he'll come. We'll have to wait for a bit, though."

Lancelot shrugged, and said, "You're the boss."

Of course, it was at that point that an arrow embedded itself in a tree, barely an inch in front of Merlin's nose.

Lancelot and Merlin both whipped their heads around to find at least twenty of Morgana's men running at them through the trees. Lancelot drew his sword, and said, "I don't suppose you have that magic sword anymore?"

"Arthur has it."

Lancelot swore, and then the men were on them.

* * *

Percival came walking into the throne room. Arthur only had to take one look at the knight to know that he came with news that was less than good – everything about Percival, from his posture to the way his feet thudded against the stone, screamed bad. "Sir Percival," Arthur said.

"It's Lancelot," the knight said, not one to speak in circles, "The sentry found him just outside of the gate. Alone. He had been wounded in the leg. Took him up to Gaius."

"What about Merlin?" Arthur said, springing to his feet.

Percival just shrugged, and shook his head. Arthur pushed past him and ran. He opened the door to Gaius's rooms just in time to hear Lancelot say, "—didn't want to leave him. I –" he broke off with a hiss of pain as Gaius prodded his wound, and then continued, "I swear. But I got hit in the leg, and it must've been some sort of spell, sent me away –"

"Who did?" Arthur said, and both physician and knight turned to stare at him.

"Sire," Gaius said, "How long have you been –"

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur said, eyes sweeping the room. There was the usual clutter. Gaius had Lancelot sitting on a chair with his leg – newly decorated with a gash that went the length of his thigh – propped up on another. Gwaine was out cold on the bed. Arthur turned his glare on Lancelot and repeated, "Where. Is. Merlin?"

Gaius walked away, mixing something but obviously still listening. "I," Lancelot said, and shook his head, "I don't know."

"You don't know," Arthur repeated. He felt drained and empty, and somewhere in the back of his head, a voice was whispering, _You did this. He would be safe in the city if it wasn't for you_. But, as was the legacy of the Pendragons, he took the anger he was feeling and shot it straight at the closest target. "You were given one objective, Lancelot, to keep Merlin with you."

"I know," said Lancelot, "I'm - "

"What happened?"

So Lancelot told him. They were riding through the woods. Morgana's men attacked. At least one of them must've used magic, for just after Lancelot was struck in the leg, he'd blinked and opened his eyes to find himself back along the city walls.

"Do you think he could've escaped?" Arthur asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I hope so," Lancelot said, "But I don't think so."

"How do you mean?"

"The dryad's words, Sire," Gaius cut in, "The fifth day? We have to assume that Merlin's been captured by Morgana."

Arthur just nodded, and turned to walk out. "Keep me updated on Gwaine, Gaius," Arthur said, "And anything you may need to set up an infirmary. Morgana's going to be attacking at dawn."


	6. The Fifth Day

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: (A Haiku) I make no profit/The BBC owns Merlin/This is just for fun.  
AN – This AN, sadly, has one bit to it, like a lone saxophone player playing at the beginning of a 1930s Detective Noir flick. Welcome, friends, to Day Five! After pulling out all of the stops for Day Four, I hope that this one is up to par!

PS - Anyone who got an update that I had a new story up, I apologize. My sister thought it would be funny to post it when it wasn't at all done. Thus, it's been taken down. :)

PSS - Let me know what you think of Morgana. I'm rather nervous - I've never written her before.

PSSS - Thanks for reviewing!

PSSSS - Remember when I said there was only one bit to this AN? Much like the Noir films of the '30s, there is more going on than originally appears!

ON WITH THE FIC.

* * *

_The Fifth Day_

* * *

The waiting was the worst. It was something that Arthur had found to be true time and time again. When the dragon had attacked, the most terrifying moments were just after the sun set, waiting for the great beast to come streaking out of the sky. When Morgana took over Camelot, it was staring at the castle walls and waiting for the charge. On the rare occasion that Arthur had nightmares, they generally involved standing, watching, _waiting._

And so he stood on the battlements. Leon stood behind him and to the left. There was a gaping hole that Arthur was doing his best to ignore on his right. No one else even tried to stand in that spot – after all, they all knew who was supposed to be there, but wasn't.

"I hate this," Arthur muttered.

Leon hummed in agreement.

The first light of dawn cleared the tree line. From the woods, Morgana's army began its advance on the city.

"So it begins," Leon said. Arthur nodded. He was half expecting for some serious words about destiny and victory and how he'd be followed anywhere, but they didn't.

"Hold," Arthur said, and Leon echoed it, much louder. The order went down the line, and the sound of bowstrings being drawn back hissed through the gray morning. Arthur waited, fingers twitching against the hilt of Excalibur.

A boulder, launched by a trebuchet hidden in the trees, flew towards the city.

"Fire," Arthur yelled, and a rain of arrows fell towards the army.

And, as Leon had said, the battle began.

* * *

Of all the jobs, all of the chores, all of the activities that go along with sieges, Gwen felt that she had been given one of the absolute worst. From below, she could hear the sounds of clashing swords and yelling men. She knew she could be fetching water and winding bandages, getting ready for the wounded that were no doubt already lining up. She could be comforting the frightened children and passing out weapons to the soldiers as they lost and damaged their own. She could be standing along side her brother in the forge to make new swords. She could be running messages from one side of the city to the other. She could be doing all manner of useful tasks.

But she wasn't. She was stuck here. With _them._

"I swear to God, Gwaine," she snapped, nearly at the end of her rope, "If you try to get up, _one more time_, I will sit on you."

Gwaine stared at her, mid-wince, with his torso pushed slightly off of the bed. He was shirtless, but the bandage that wrapped around him covered up most of him anyway. He lay on his stomach to avoid aggravating his wound, and was currently resting his weight on his elbows. "Is that a promise?" he asked. The twinkle in his eye was rather dimmed by pain and drugs, and his cheeky grin was more of a grimace, but Gwen still felt a swell of fond annoyance.

"I'll tell Arthur on you," she tried.

"The princess?" Gwaine answered, "Please. I'm not scared of – Pretty Boy's making a run for it!"

She turned to find Lancelot half of the way to the door, bad leg dragging behind him. His face was a mask of pain, and he had a hand pressed against his hurt thigh. He froze as Gwen's eyes landed on him. "And where," she seethed, "Do you think that you're going?"

"Gwen, please," he said, "I understand why Gwaine can't fight, I mean, look at him –"

"_Hey_!"

"But if I get propped up on a parapet, I can at least use a bow and arrows," Lancelot said.

"Right," Gwen said, "And then you'll faint and use your body as a missile as you tumble off of your parapet, will you?"

He got a bit shifty eyed as he thought about his answer, and then said, "Um. No?"

"Please go back and sit down," she said, "Now."

"But –"

"Now!" she bellowed. Lancelot sent darting glances from Gwen to the door and back at Gwen again, as if calculating if he could make it out before she caught him. Apparently, his chances weren't especially good as, with a deep sigh, he dragged himself back to his chairs. Suddenly, Gwen realized that it had gotten quiet. Too quiet. She whirled around and screamed at Gwaine, "_Lay back down!_"

He did, looking properly terrified. "I'm so pleased that you didn't raise me," Gwaine said, "I wouldn't have gotten away with anything. There just are no words for how pleased I am right now that you are not my mother."

The room fell quiet. And not the quiet of injured men-children trying to run off, but a much more terrified quiet of those same men-children petrified to even think about putting a toe out of line. Gwen smiled, and allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. After Gaius had left the two knights alone for barely more than a minute, the physician had returned to find Lancelot sagging against a corridor wall, half of the way to unconscious, and Gwaine passed out on the floor.

Both had been doing their best to try and do something useful to help. Gwaine, ever since he had woken and found out the currently unknown fate of Merlin, had been trying to make bids for freedom to try and find his wayward friend. He also kept forgetting that he'd been stabbed in the back barely a day ago. Gwen couldn't blame him, however. With the upcoming battle, Arthur had been forced to make the decision to not send out a search party. After all, Merlin had either been captured, gotten away to find the Druids, or...basically, Gwen couldn't blame Gwaine for his desperation to try and find Merlin.

Gaius, having to go and supervise at the makeshift infirmary, requested that she stay up in his chambers to keep an eye on the two of them. Arthur had pounced on the idea, knowing that it would keep Gwen well away from the fighting and danger. "I need to know you're safe," he'd said, "It is bad enough with Merlin being…please, Gwen, just stay up here and inside."

How could she have said no to that?

Her hard won relaxation bled away as she thought about Merlin. She felt physically ill every time she thought about her friend – shaking hands, nausea, and an obnoxious lump in her throat. There were tears building behind her eyes now, too, and she faced away from the two knights to hide it. Unfortunately, they still noticed.

"Gwen," Lancelot said, "He'll be alright."

"He'd be more alright if you'd let me go find him," Gwaine muttered.

"Oh, be quiet," Lancelot said, glaring at him, "You wouldn't be able to make it to the door."

Gwaine looked back at Lancelot calmly, and said, "You're one to talk. What was the one thing Arthur ordered you to do, again? Guard Merlin?" Gwaine waved one hand feebly around, "That turned out well, didn't it?"

"I'm one to talk? Look at you!" Lancelot said. "You're the one who got him framed. Tell me, how is it that Morgana managed to attack you without you fighting back at all?"

Gwaine shifted a little, wincing. "Gwen," he said, "Did you know that Lancelot knows what Merlin's been hiding and never told anyone? Even when I asked if Merlin was in trouble, he just wouldn't answer."

Now Gwen whirled around to stare at Lancelot. "What?" she whispered.

Lancelot would have looked less stricken had someone clobbered him over the head with a club. "I," he said, and stopped.

"Is that true?" Gwen said, taking a step forward. Behind her, Gwaine was watching Lancelot just as intensely. "Lancelot, is that true?"

"It is," the knight said, stalwartly staring anywhere but at Gwen.

She waited for him to continue, her heart clawing its way up her throat. "Well?" she said, "What is it?"

"It's…It isn't my place to say," Lancelot answered, "It isn't my secret."

"Merlin is in trouble," Gwaine growled, pushing himself half way up again. Gwen glared at him, and he dropped back down. He continued, "He could be getting tortured right now. Whatever you know, you need to tell us, now. Whatever it he knows, she's going to try and use it. Arthur needs to know."

Lancelot glared back, "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."

Gwaine opened his mouth to respond, but Gwen beat him to it. "Lancelot," she said, and blinked heavily, "Please."

"I _can't_," he said, "And even if I did tell you, it wouldn't change what's happening."

They wouldn't get any more out of him on the subject. Well. They wouldn't get anything out of him for another two days, at the very least.

* * *

Meanwhile, out of the way of the battle and the castle, Merlin was tied up with magical chains. Again. His head hurt – throbbed, actually – and he was fairly certain that he had sprained his wrist, at the very least. He had been kneeling for hours, with three guards watching him. At first, he had been too timid to try and use magic to escape, too worried about Morgana finding out. Now, he was beginning to wonder if it was worth it.

Besides, she might already know, anyway.

During the fight the day before, Merlin had paused just long enough to think one thought: We are not going to win this. And then Lancelot had fallen. And, Merlin, back pressed against a tree, had simply let the magic blast out with the single thought of, _Take Lancelot somewhere safe_. After all, Merlin considered himself something of an expert when it came to destinies. Or, at least, he considered himself enough of an expert to know that it wasn't Lancelot's destiny to die today. Not while he had something to say about it.

Lancelot had disappeared in a small puff of gold. The man who had struck him swung his sword through the empty air, and then simply froze, apparently having trouble processing the disappearance of his opponent. Merlin, however, was thrown briefly off kilter by the spell and was distracted by the casting of it. It was a moment that the soldiers took instant advantage of.

He was unconscious and tied up before he even had a chance to wonder where he'd sent Lancelot to.

Then he woke up here, bound with _very_ familiar silver chains and under guard. He had been hauled to his knees as soon as his eyes opened, just in time to hear the echoes a battle beginning in the distance.

Now, suddenly, two of the guards walked over and yanked Merlin to his feet. "You will address my Lady with respect," one growled. Merlin didn't have time to answer as Morgana came stalking into the clearing. Her hair was wound into a braid that ran down her back, swinging as she came forward. She had on armor, and pants instead of her usual skirt. "Merlin," she said, stopping a short distance from him, crossing her arms. Her face was impassive, unreadable.

"Morgana," he said back, trying to ignore the way his legs were quivering beneath him.

She just looked at him for a long moment. In the end, it was Merlin who broke eye contact first, twitching his gaze to a tree just behind her. Still, though, he could tell that she was smirking. Merlin expected anger. He expected rage. He expected the wrath of Morgana Pendragon to fall on him, and he expected to be pushed to just short of the brink of death. Instead, she smiled, and said, "I'm told that you have magic."

Merlin had known this was coming. Destiny expert, after all. When random magical creatures talk about the future, they almost always ended being right. He thought he had been prepared. Yet his heart skipped a beat and he could feel a cold sweat threatening to break out on his back. And even though he knew that Morgana knew, the instinct to lie had been being fed for nearly four years at this point, and Merlin looked to the side and said, "I don't have –"

"No, no," she said, moving forward, "Don't deny it. My men saw you while they were fighting, and then when you sent that knight away. Impressive, I must admit. But, I want to hear you say it."

"You want me to say what?"

"That you have magic," she said, "Just say it. There's no use lying, not now."

Merlin glared up at her. He thought back to standing in front of Arthur in the throne room, and realized he still felt the same way – he was sick and tired of lying. And, as Morgana had already said, she did know. "Fine," he said, "I have magic. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes," Morgana breathed, but her eyes were wide, and her jaw clenched slightly. Merlin began to wonder if the dryad and the prophets had been wrong. For, he was fairly certain that Morgana was going to kill him over this. But, she didn't. She didn't even threaten him. Instead, she did the last thing that Merlin could have ever expected, even in his wildest dreams. She reached forward, and clutched his arm in a painfully tight grip. When she spoke, there was a manic tinge to her words, a flavor of something that Merlin could only identify as madness.

"We're the same, you and I," she said, "You have been used and manipulated, Merlin, and I'm a fool for not seeing it before. They sought to do the same to me, don't you see? They used you to do it. But I got away. I escaped. Morgause helped me to flee from them. Just as I'm going to help you."

"Wait, _what_?" Merlin said. He was beginning to wonder if he'd been hit on the head harder than he'd originally realized. He tried to think back to conversations with Gaius, wondering if hallucinations could be a symptom of a concussion. Morgana, all the while, just stared back at him, intently, waiting for him to say something else. Of course, it was then that, on the fringes of his consciousness, he heard Kilgarrah say, _You called me, Merlin, I've been flying all night and day. I do not like to be kept waiting._

_I'm a bit busy,_ he answered.

Morgana was still waiting for an answer, so more to keep her talking than anything else Merlin scrambled for a question, and said, "Who's they?"

"Gaius the liar," Morgana said, "All of Camelot. They have been trying to keep you close so that you wouldn't come to your true potential. I can help you, if you'd let me."

_What could possibly be more important?_ Kilgarrah said, _I demand an answer._

"I tried to kill you," Merlin said, "I have no reason to believe you won't do the same to me." Silently, to Kilgarrah, he added, _Look, I'm sorry, but Morgana has me tied up in the forest. You're going to have to wait for a while._

"You didn't understand what you were doing. Your mind's been twisted against you," she said, "Merlin, I can help you understand. You're scared, like I was. I know. I know like nobody else can. But you need to trust me, just a little."

_Witch! _Kilgarrah snarled, _I am coming to you._

"Then you shouldn't have stabbed Gwaine."

Morgana frowned. "Gwaine? Who's – oh, he must have been that knight," she said, "But in battle, sacrifices must be made. I wanted you out of the way. You always get in the way. It makes much more sense now, I suppose, knowing that you have magic."

"And there it is," Merlin said, shaking his head.

"There what is?"

"You didn't know Gwaine's name," Merlin said, "You didn't even know, and you tried to kill him. That's why we'll never be the same. You use magic to hurt, for evil. It's why I'll never trust you."

"But you trust Arthur. Tell me, does Arthur know that you have magic?" she asked, and when Merlin didn't answer, she pressed, "Does he know?"

Merlin glared up at her.

She smirked, "No, of course he doesn't. Silly of me to ask, really. You'd be dead by now if he did."

"I don't believe that," Merlin said.

"You don't?" she said, "Then why haven't you told him?"

"I…It was never the right time," Merlin said, and then shook himself, "I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

"Are you really naïve as that?" Morgana said, "You see? Some part of you knows I'm right. That this…this is all for your own good."

"Yes," Merlin said, "Because being tied up in the woods is doing wonders for me."

"Today is the day that we take back what's ours, Merlin," Morgana said, "There's someone coming, a mighty warlock named Emrys. He's going to raze Camelot to the ground, and I am going to help him. The question is, where will you stand? With my murdering father and brother – or with your own kind."

"I," Merlin said, and smiled, "I'm not going to stand at all."

Morgana frowned, clearly confused at his abrupt change in attitude. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to stand," Merlin repeated, and then said, "I'm going to _jump_." And he did, throwing himself backwards so he was just about parallel to the ground. Immediately, Kilgarrah's claws latched around his torso. The ground fell away, and Merlin laughed as the wind rushed past his ears. His only regret was not having the chance to see Morgana's face.

"Are you hurt?" the dragon asked as they flew.

Merlin patted the scaly foot with his still bound hands, "Nothing I can't handle. Take me back to the city."

"No."

Well. That wasn't exactly the answer that Merlin had been looking for. Had it really been that long since he'd spoken with Kilgarrah? Perhaps the dragon simply needed a reminder. "You don't have a choice, remember?" Merlin said.

"I am aware."

"So take me back to Camelot."

"I cannot."

"But you have to," said Merlin, and tried to ignore the awful sinking sensation in his stomach, "You have to do what I –"

"I am following the orders of a higher authority," Kilgarrah said, "I have to do nothing you say."

"I am the last Dragonlord," Merlin yelled, pounding his tied fists against the dragon's foot, "I am the highest authority! There's no one above me, not for you!"

"Today, young warlock," answered Kilgarrah, "Today, there is."


	7. The Sixth Day

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: I got nothing. Merlin belongs to Shine and BBC, and this is all just for fun and I make no profit.  
AN –This AN, much like Shatner in Wrath of Khan, comes to you with lots of pointless bellowing. It's Day 6. Do you know what that means? We've reached the crisis point. SWITCH OFF THE TARGETTING COMPUTERS! GO GO GO! RUFIO! RUFIO! MACH FIVE TOWARDS THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF! KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

(Thanks for all of the lovely reviews!)

ON WITH THE FIC!

* * *

_The Sixth Day_

* * *

Merlin didn't know how long they flew. Longer than four hours, less than a day. He knew he fell asleep at one point, still in the air, hands all but numb from being bound with the chains. He knew he woke up sometime later, still flying, somewhere where it was very cold. At some point the dragon had switched which claw he was grasping Merlin in, and Merlin, in his complete exhaustion, had apparently slept through the switch.

"Where are we going?" he asked, not for the first time.

"North," Kilgarrah replied. It was all that Merlin could get out of him.

"Who –"

"My answer has not changed in the past ten minutes, Merlin," the dragon said, "I will not tell you again."

Which left Merlin dangling, bored, and more than a little sore. He was also bored, as Kilgarrah was less than stellar as a conversationalist. Well, he was as bored as one could be whilst dangling from the claws of the last dragon in the world, bound for destinations unknown, destined to raise hell come the next day. It was more bored that Merlin had imagined possible. And his nose was itching, and he had no way to scratch it. He wasn't at the point yet, however, of rubbing his face against Kilgarrah's scales to get rid of the itch, but he was getting close.

Just as he was about to pick up pestering Kilgarrah again, the dragon suddenly dipped down towards the barren stretch of land beneath them. A moor, Merlin realized, though not one that he recognized. He wondered how far they were from Camelot. As they drew closer, Kilgarrah released him much more roughly than Merlin thought was strictly necessary. He bounced, slightly, but through some miracle managed to land on his feet.

There was a tall figure, right around Merlin's own height, standing on the moor. He was wearing a dark cloak with a hood. He was somewhere between Uther's age and Gaius's – not old enough to be eldery nor young enough to be youthful. His hair was mostly gray, but scattered bits of black were there as well. Merlin was struck by a pang of familiarity.

"Thank you," the man said to Kilgarrah, "I know it wasn't a short journey."

Kilgarrah huffed slightly. The man turned his attention to Merlin, who was trying to scratch his nose with his tied hands.

"Hm," the man said, tilting his head slightly, "You haven't learned the chain spell yet, have you?"

Merlin frowned. "What chain spell?"

"I'll take that as a no, then," he said, "Pay attention – it's handy to know." He mumbled a spell. The silver chains around Merlin fell apart to ash, and drifted to the ground. Merlin began to massage feeling back into his hands, trying to avoid his injured wrist. It didn't work all that well.

"Thank you, Kilgarrah," the man said, turning to face the dragon, "You may go, I am, er, we are no longer in need your services."

Kilgarrah bowed – actually _bowed_, his long neck bending until his nose almost touched the grass – and then took off, disappearing into the sky. Merlin and the man watched him go. The man turned to Merlin, and just stared at him for a moment. "Ah, yes," he said, "I'll admit I don't quite know how to go about this."

"Who are you?" Merlin said.

The man laughed, "That's a funny question."

"I don't see how," Merlin said, and repeated himself, "Who are you? Why does Kilgarrah listen to you?"

He laughed again, and said, "We'll get to that in a moment. And, as much as I'd like to continue this, we haven't the time. We've got much to do and little space to do it. First – you must be hungry."

"What?" Merlin said, and his stomach rumbled traitorously. Thinking, he realized that he couldn't remember the last time that he'd eaten. The man –who looked familiar, but he couldn't place it – held out a sack.

"I think Morgana took your provisions, did she not?" he said, "Confiscated it when she captured you."

"How do I know that I can trust you?"

"You don't. But, believe me when I say that if you can't trust me, you will never be able to trust anyone," he said, and tossed the sack at Merlin, who caught it a little awkwardly. Inside was a loaf of bread and a flask. Merlin opened the flask, and sniffed it curiously. Water. He looked over at the man again.

"Why does Kilgarrah listen to you?" Merlin repeated, "I was under the impression that I was the only Dragonlord left."

"Oh, you are," the man said, "Eat up, and then we'll talk."

Merlin's hunger got the best of him, and he devoured the bread and downed the water. With a slightly manic giggle, he wondered if he was going to have the hiccups for when he went back to Camelot.

"You're finished?" the man said.

Merlin nodded.

"Good – now, onto business. There's only one person who can teach you what you need to know in the time we have," the man said, stretching and cracking his bones, "And luckily for you, he's willing to teach you. In fact, he's come a _very_ long way just to do that."

"Who is he?" Merlin asked.

"Me."

"And you are…?"

"You," the man said, "Well, the future you, anyway. The you you will become. Is this making sense? No, of course it isn't. I remember thinking this was all complete dragon dung. Do you get why you wondering who I was is funny?"

Merlin stared at him. He looked at the man's blue eyes, hair that was more gray than black. He took in the man's ears – much too wide for the rest of his face – and the wrinkles around his eyes. Again, Merlin was struck with the idea of familiarity, but, he mused, that would make sense if this man was actually himself from the future. Merlin stared at him for quite a long time. The older man stared back.

"Um," Merlin said, "How is this possible?"

"Good question," the older Merlin said, "And it's one that's going to drive you to the brink of insanity for a very long time. I could just tell you, but that feels an awful lot like cheating. I recommend Gaius as a starting point. Don't even bother with Kilgarrah, he'll just stare at you and laugh a bit if you ask."

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, and let out a blast of air through his nose, "Is there something I can call you to avoid confusion? So, later, when Gwaine's half drunk and thinks I've gone mad when I'm telling him about this –"

"Gwaine?" the older man said, breaking out into a grin, Merlin's grin. Merlin felt somewhat ripped off to see his smile reflected back at him, like his future-self had stolen it from him. "Good old Gwaine. I haven't seen him in, oh, must be three years now. He went off with the others looking for the Holy – but that isn't important, Merlin. Oh, that is odd to say. But, I digress. What is important is that this is the fork in the road, is it not?"

Merlin nodded.

"And, judging by the stars, it's day six?"

Again, Merlin nodded.

His older self sighed. "You'll be wanting to know what happens come sunrise, then," he said, and Merlin's heart raced, thrumming in his ears. He was too scared to speak, to nod his confirmation. His old self smiled sadly, "I can't tell you. Even if I could, I wouldn't. Your destiny is to choose. I know how I acted, how I reacted to what is to come. But we're not the same, Merlin. The future isn't fixed. What happens still lies with you."

Merlin blinked back tears. He hadn't realized how much he'd hoped for Old Merlin to give him answers. "Then why are you even here?" he asked, not caring how cutting and mean he sounded, "What good are you if you can't even help me?"

"Don't you remember anything?" Old Merlin said, "I am the only one who can teach you what you need to know in the time you need to know it by. I am here to give you what I have."

"What is it, exactly, that you have?"

Something raw, ancient, and moving turned Old Merlin's eyes distant. "Power," he said, "Absolute power, absolute knowledge."

Merlin's hair stood up on end as he was blanketed with a sudden chill. "But I don't want absolute power," Merlin said. Things, dark things, were winding around in the back of his mind. Dreams he'd had, of rivers running red and night forever, flashed through his mind. This is fear, he thought, this is fear, and you are scared.

Old Merlin smiled, but there was no joy there. "I remember this," he said, "God, it feels like yesterday. What I'm about to tell you, you're not going to like, because if your Arthur has been acting like mine did, then you've already figured it out. You've just not admitted it to yourself yet."

"What?" Merlin said, the fear sharp and real and metallic in the back of his throat, "Tell me. Just..just say it."

"You say you don't want absolute power," Old Merlin answered, that ancient, haunted, cold look still in his eyes, "But you already have it, inside of you."

Sweat, cold and clammy, broke out across Merlin's body and he shivered. Old Merlin watched him closely. "I know," he whispered, "But that doesn't tell me why you're here. Why you're talking to me."

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Old Merlin said, "I'm here to unlock that, because you've put up so many walls that God knows you can't tear them down. I'm here to show you what you're capable of. The things, boy, oh the things that you can do. You will do. You'll never do. All of magic, stretched before you, waiting. Yours to command."

"What if I don't want it?" Merlin said, "I don't want it. Find somebody else, I won't. What happens if I walk away now?"

Old Merlin cocked his head slightly, "Then we all stop. They all die. Not just Arthur and his knights. Not just Morgana and her hatred. Everyone and everything will rip each other apart until there's nothing but wasteland."

"What if…what if I turn it into a wasteland anyway?" Merlin said, and his voice cracked. He felt his tears, pent up for days now, spill over. He didn't care. He sat in front of his future self and cried like a terrified child. "What if I can't handle the power and go insane? What if I destroy everything, and leave behind only death and destruction? What if –"

"What if you don't?" Old Merlin said calmly, "You are scared, and believe me, I know. But for every dark and terrible act you may commit, think of the good and wonderful things that you may do. By going into this convinced you will emerge different than you are, you ensure it. You are a kind person, Merlin, a good one."

"But I've killed, too," Merlin said, swallowing and unable to stop crying, "I've killed people. Like the witchfinder, and God, I laughed about it afterwards, with Gaius. We thought it was _funny_."

"We have darkness in us," Old Merlin said, "No one can deny that. But magic is about balance. To recognize the light we must walk in the dark. There's no way to appreciate something unless it leaves. Night and day. Shadows and light. Sewer rats and song birds."

Merlin still kept crying, but began scrubbing at his face with his sleeve in a desperate attempt to stop.

"Take a moment to compose yourself, now," Old Merlin said, "You'll want your wits about you when we do this."

Merlin forced his eyes shut, taking shallow, but even, breaths. His heart was racing fast enough to actually hurt him a little. His entire body shook, and he'd never felt more alive than in that moment. He thought about his father, his mother. About Gaius and Freya, Gwen and Lancelot, Gwaine and the dragon, Arthur. What would Arthur say if he could see Merlin now, standing in the woods, sobbing, and effectively talking to himself. Mer_lin, stop being such a girl,_ he would say, with a roll of his eyes and arms crossed, _You've a job to do. Do it._

Merlin took a deep breath, and nodded once at Old Merlin. "I-I think I'm ready," he whispered, still shaking, still petrified.

"I am sorry about this," Old Merlin said, "I'd tell you it's not going to hurt, but I remember it, did it hurt."

Merlin jerked backwards as the calloused hand pressed against his forehead. Old Merlin's other hand whipped out to grasp his arm and hold him in place. Merlin felt the familiar heat of magic pressing behind his own eyes as Old Merlin's eyes burned gold.

Then, the world exploded.

Everything turned white, before flashing to black, then red, then gold, blue, yellow, purple, green, white again, and distantly Merlin could hear himself scream in agony. The hand on his arm tightened like a vice, holding him in place. His veins were on fire, he was burning, flames running from the top of his head down to his toes before turning to ice and shooting back up him. Spells and pictures and words roared through his mind, slicing and cutting like knives, memories of things that had happened and would happen and would never happen. He was being torn into a million different directions, magic around him and in him and boring holes into his being. It was too much, he couldn't handle it. His ears roared with half remembered songs and screams and conversations and dreams, whispers in the dark and laughter in the sun.

Then, it was silent. It was almost worse than the cacophony before.

The hand let go of his arm.

Dark.

* * *

The fighting went on all of that sixth day, straight into the night. It was slightly after the sun had set and the moon had rose that Arthur was struck with an arrow. He bellowed out more in surprise than actual pain, and Percival – not missing a beat – threw Arthur over his shoulder and ran him in by Gaius. All the while, Arthur beat on his back, and said, "For God's sake, put me down!"

Gaius looked up as they entered. "What happened?" he said, immediately walking over.

"Just a graze," Arthur said, glaring at Percival. The large knight shrugged, and walked away. "I'm fine."

"I'll get some supplies," Gaius said, and shuffled away. Arthur found a waterskin being forced into his hands, along with a bit of food. He tucked in greedily. Gaius came back.

Arthur paused in his inhalation of his food, just long enough to let Gaius wrap a bandage around his arm and force a new goblet of water into his hand. He looked up at the old physician, and said, "Merlin?"

Gaius's hands stilled, and he glanced out the window, staring at the night for several tense moments. Then, he looked back down at Arthur, "He's not here, Sire," he said, and patted the now tied bandage, "But you'll be the first to know when he does show up."

"When?" Arthur said, "You think he's alive, then."

"Merlin is many things," Gaius said, "Lucky is one of them. Stubborn is another. He'll find his way back."

"You'll tell me if he – when he comes back, won't you?"

Gaius gave Arthur the most forced smile that Arthur had ever seen in his life. "I doubt that I'll have to."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked. True, Merlin tended to gravitate towards Arthur during an emergency, but surely he'd check in with his guardian, first.

Gaius sighed. "I can all but guarantee it, Sire."

Arthur pushed himself back to his feet. "Back to it, then," he said, and walked out. As he pushed through the bustling people in the hall, he suddenly paused. It felt like someone had tugged on his arm ever so slightly. He just shook his head, and blamed it on being tired. He started to walk again, and –

_Arthur._

He whirled on the spot, searching the hall. Anyone in sight was hurrying, completely unworried by the prince's presence. There was no one looking as if they'd called his name. Then, the voice again.

_Arthur, this way._

There was another tug on his arm. This time, Arthur followed it. He pulled Excalibur from its sheath, and crept along the deserted inner halls of the castle. He could hear the sounds of his men fighting outside. Every instinct in his head was telling him to go back and join them.

But he was drawn along, unable to stop. He didn't want to.

_Hurry, Arthur. Follow me._

He walked into the empty throne room. He walked forward, cautiously, until he was in the center of the room. "Hello?" he called out.

The door shut behind him, the sound echoing. Whatever hold had been reigning over him disappeared. He turned to find Morgana leaning against the closed door, arms crossed, smirking. "Arthur," she said.

You've really stepped in it this time, Pendragon, Arthur thought. "Morgana," he said.

"I must admit, I'm surprised you came here alone," she said, stalking forward, still smirking. Arthur readjusted his grip on his sword, and had to will himself to not back away. "Normally you have your knights with you. Merlin, at the very least."

Arthur said nothing. He just stared at her.

"How is Merlin, anyway?" she asked, tilting her head, "I haven't seen him since yesterday, and, if I may say so, he didn't look very well."

Arthur's heart stopped at the words. He had managed to fool himself into thinking that Merlin had to have gotten through, had been running about in the woods talking with druids and bargaining for the safety of Camelot like some sort of awkward, clumsy children's story hero. That he had been safe, and that the dryad had been mistaken on that one point of the week. After all, it was Merlin. Merlin wasn't allowed to get into life threatening trouble when Arthur wasn't somewhere within shouting distance. But, now, here, Arthur was forced to admit that it had all just been wishful thinking. The proof was standing right in front of him.

"What did you do?" Arthur said, fighting to keep any emotion from his voice, "Morgana, what have you done?"

"Me? I didn't do anything," Morgana said, "But I must say, I was surprised – I'm sure you were too, of course. Our dear Merlin, all this time."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together as she talked, trying desperately to predict the way that this conversation was going to end.

Morgana paused, and said, "Oh, but you don't know, do you? He wasn't lying. I'd thought for sure that he would have told you."

"What did you do to him?" Arthur repeated.

"Then again, no wonder you don't know," she said, "Look at you. You never could see what was just beneath your nose. I'll repeat myself, once more, slowly. Just for you. I didn't do anything to your pet sorcerer. At least nothing that he won't get over in time."

Arthur's thoughts stuttered to a stop at the word sorcerer. Then, just as abruptly, his mind began firing rapid speed images at him. Merlin pushing him out of the way of that dagger. Merlin knowing too much about magic for Arthur's liking. Merlin charging into the throne room and yelling that he had magic. Merlin drinking the poison – the glowing ball of light. Merlin stuttering out a half-baked excuse. Merlin sneaking around in the vaults. Merlin knowing Catrina was a troll. Merlin being stupidly, unbelievably wise. Merlin no longer trusting Morgana. Merlin showing up in the Perilous Lands. Merlin disappearing for long stretches of time during disasters just to reappear exhausted and filthy with little to no explanation. Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin_.

"Oh," he said, in what was not the most eloquent moment of his life, "_Oh_."

Morgana laughed, and said, "And if you think that's shocking, try this one. He's a Dragonlord, too. Did you know that?"

Arthur hardly even registered that she had spoken – the word 'sorcerer' was still bouncing around in his mind.

Then her eyes twitched over towards the windows, and she glided to stand in front of them. "It's almost morning, Arthur," she said, "Emrys is coming. How do you think he's going to act?"

Wait, Merlin. Morgana hadn't seen him since yesterday, and inquired where he was. That meant that she didn't know where he was either. That meant that maybe, just maybe, they still had a chance in this.

"Look, Arthur, the sun is rising. Here…we…_go_," she said, "Come, watch as your sky turns to black and everything Uther has built crumbles to the ground. Watch it. Watch it!"

The faintest shadow of the dawn creeped over the trees.

And so began the seventh day.


	8. The Seventh Day

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES, but includes quotes from Series 3 "The Changeling"  
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to Shine and BBC, I make nothing off of this.  
AN – Here it is, Day 7. No, for the record, this is NOT the last chapter, as I like epilogues. : ) A quick recap for y'all: No one in Camelot knows where Merlin is. Morgana has lured Arthur off to the throne room and revealed that Merlin has magic. Merlin, meanwhile, has met his future self and jujumagumbo went down. ON WITH THE FIC!

* * *

_The Seventh Day_

* * *

The sun rose ever so slightly over the horizon. "Here…we…_go_." Morgana whispered, "Come, watch as your sky turns to black and everything Uther has built crumbles to the ground. Watch it. Watch it!"

Arthur did. But he wasn't seeing any signs of ashen skies and apocalyptic landscape. In fact, if anything, everything was getting brighter. Much brighter. From the east, driving closer and closer, a great burning ball of light was hurtling towards Camelot. Arthur's heart leapt up into his throat – he was no expert, but that looked more like riding with the light than dragging in the darkness.

Of course, then he realized that, good or not, it was still hurtling straight for the city, and directly in front of a window may not be the safest place to be standing.

"Get away from the window," Arthur said. Too many instincts built on afternoons playing make-believe and a shared childhood forced him forward, grabbing her and pulling her from harm's way, "Morgana, get away from it!"

She shrieked, and suddenly there was an incredibly sharp, burning pain in Arthur's side. He shouted and pulled away from her. "You do not touch me!" she yelled, brandishing her now bloodied dagger. Again, she yelled, "You never touch me!"

Arthur staggered back, clutching his side. He could feel the blood welling up between his fingers. Then, light flared, somehow solid, and shattered all but two of the windows in the throne room and came rushing in. Morgana stumbled slightly, and Arthur barely had time to cover his eyes before it was rushing around them, a physical thing that he could feel surging past his skin.

* * *

Gwaine and Lancelot were quiet. Gwen had drifted off to sleep some time before, but neither of the two knights made a bid for freedom. In order to make it through the previous day, she had laced both of their goblets of water with an impressively strong sedative, rendering them both borderline comatose and far from coherent for the majority of the day.

They'd both come back to themselves late in the night and come to a mutual decision not to cross Gwen anymore. It just wasn't worth it. The only move they made was, mutually leaning on one another, to stagger over to a window and collapse, waiting for the sun to rise.

"Do you think we should wake her up?" Gwaine asked, twitching his head in Gwen's direction. "This is going to be a rather big thing, if I've been understanding things correctly."

"No. I think it would be best to let her sleep," said Lancelot after a moment, "She might get, ah, she might be angry if we woke her."

"You're probably right," Gwaine said, shifting uncomfortably, "She might try to actually murder us this time."

Lancelot snorted and almost giggled. Gwen muttered in her sleep and moved around slightly. They both froze, silent, waiting for her to settle. Then, they both cleared their throats awkwardly and pretended that they weren't kind of sort of completely petrified by Guinevere.

"Look, Gwaine," Lancelot said, "I, um…Remember how I know what Merlin's hiding?"

"Yes," Gwaine said slowly, and tried not to look as anxious as he felt. Every time someone brought up his clumsy friend, he got something close to a pain in his chest, and images about what could be happening to poor Merlin _right now_ would flash across his mind. None of them were particularly happy or optimistic. But right now, he couldn't see the point of talking about it. He told Lancelot as much.

"You're about to find out, anyway, and since we're here, I might as well tell you," Lancelot said, staring intently out the window. "Merlin…when I first met him, there was a griffin that was attacking Camelot. Long story short, I managed to get myself banished –"

"Join the club," Gwaine cut in, "I think it's an unofficial requirement around here."

"As I was saying," Lancelot continued, "As I was leaving the city, I realized I had a chance to kill the beast that was attacking. Merlin showed up, just before I did. I had my lance, I was charging - and then I heard Merlin say something. Some words, though I can't recall them now. And then my lance just burst into blue flames. And when I asked Merlin about it later, he proved what I knew."

Gwaine's eyebrows drew together. "Are you saying," he said slowly, "What I think that you're saying?"

"Depends," Lancelot said, "Do you think that I'm saying that Merlin has magic?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Then I'm saying what you think I'm saying," Lancelot said.

Gwaine laughed, and then sent a nervous look at Gwen. She was still fast asleep, head tilted back and mouth slightly open. He let out a small breath of relief, and then looked at Lancelot to say, "That's the most brilliant thing that I've ever heard in my life."

Lancelot shrugged slightly, held up a hand, and said, "There's more."

"More?" Gwaine said, and smiled widely, "Are you saying it gets even better?"

"That's one way of putting it," Lancelot said, stretching his shoulders and letting the bones crack slightly. "Just…he's still Merlin, remember that."

"Lancelot," Gwaine said frankly, "You've met me, have you not? There are precious few things that people can do to make me change my opinion about them."

"Merlin's Emrys."

"Funny," Gwaine said, "Stop joking. What is it?"

"I'm not kidding."

"Yes, and Arthur has wee chicken wings sticking from his back," Gwaine said. Lancelot just stared back at him, waiting. The grin slipped off of Gwaine's face, and he said, "Wait. You're serious?"

"Yes."

"…Oh," Gwaine said. He looked out the window, where the barest hint of the sunrise was beginning to show. "And you didn't think that was important enough to warrant mentioning at the _start_ of the week, did you?"

"I didn't know at the beginning," Lancelot said, "I found out just before Merlin sent me back here, after I got hurt."

Gwaine hummed, and readjusted his position, wincing. "There's a thing," he said, "If Merlin is Emrys and Arthur wanted Emrys found, why were you two larking about in the forest?"

"To talk to a dragon, apparently," Lancelot said. Gwaine just stared at him, and the other knight shrugged again, and added, "I don't know, I got sent away before that part."

"Merlin gets to have all the fun," Gwaine grumbled. There was something off about his vision. He frowned. "Lancelot, is it just darling Gwen's drugs addling my mind, or is it getting brighter around here?"

"I think," Lancelot said, and a great, burning ball of light soared over the horizon, "That Merlin's just found his way home."

"…I think we should wake up Gwen," Gwaine said.

Then the light smashed into the ground. A wave of white washed up towards the castle, and they both shielded their eyes.

* * *

Arthur somehow managed to end up just next to the windows he'd pulled Morgana from. He blinked heavily, eyes focusing on a lone figure standing in the middle of a patch of blackened grass that formed a perfect circle, at least the size of the courtyard. There was lightning falling from a cloudless sky, random explosions of light flaring and fading in the ranks of Morgana's quickly fleeing army. "Emrys, I presume," he whispered, his voice worn.

The figure looked up towards the castle. The prince couldn't explain it, but he could feel it – Emrys was staring straight at him. There was yet another blinding flash of golden light, and the castle shook. Arthur pushed himself away from the windows, but only made it a few steps before collapsing in a heap on the floor. Morgana was pacing, all the while repeating to herself and endless litany of "No, no, no, this all wrong, it's wrong, no, no, no…"

The doors blasted open, and whatever glass had survived the initial blast shattered with the raging wind that surged through the room. Arthur closed his eyes against the glare, and once it faded, opened them to find his vision largely obscured by a figure standing in front of him. He blinked heavily, trying to get rid of the spots dancing in his vision. With a rush, Arthur realized it was Merlin who had just forced his way into the most fortified room in the castle. Something told him if his mind had been just a bit clearer, that might be more significant that he was currently realizing.

Arthur's first thought was, Oh, thank God, he hasn't died. His second thought was, Oh, my God, he actually does have magic. Later, he would realize that maybe there was something rather important about the order he thought those things.

"Morgana," Merlin said, his back to Arthur, "You have done enough damage here. I won't let you do any more."

"What?" Morgana said, backing away a step, "No, this is…you can't be…who _are_ you?"

"My name is Merlin, son of Balinor, last of the Dragonlords," Merlin said, and the wind whipped at their clothes and hair. Merlin stayed firmly planted in front of Arthur, and continued, "I am the one that the Druids call Emrys. I have defeated the sorceress Nimueh and taken council with the Fisher King. I am the one who is responsible for the fall of Morgause and of her immortal army. I have been to the Crystal Cave and seen the future. I have faced the sorcerer Cornelius Sigan and emerged victorious. And I am the one who will stop you from advancing any further on this city. Go away, Morgana. Camelot does not fall. Not today."

And Arthur could only gape, and squeak out, "_What the hell is happening?_"

Morgana snarled, her lovely face twisted and hideous. "No!" she said, and screamed a spell, a pillar of fire spiraling from her hand towards Merlin.

Arthur flinched, and covered his head with his arms. Merlin merely raised a hand, and the fire evaporated away. "This is your second warning," he said, and dropped his arm to his side again, "Turn around. Leave, or face the consequences."

"You would side with them? With him?" she said, and pointed a finger at Arthur, "He has stood by and watched as hundreds of our people died. They have died because of him."

"They died because of Uther's hate and ignorance, not because of Arthur," Merlin said, "Morgana, this is your final warning. Walk away."

Her eyes turned gold. Fire began to weave its way around them, a burning web, twisting around and up and down in the wind that Merlin had dragged in behind him. Merlin didn't even move. Arthur, however, climbed to his feet. He kept Excalibur clutched in a sweating hand, and considered the uselessness of a sword – albeit a most excellent sword – against magical flame.

Clutching his side, he stumbled and took cover behind the throne.

_Destinies…_Merlin voice said out the corner of his mind, crawling up from a memory as he hunkered down…_are troublesome things._

There was a pulsing light building, a throbbing roar that rose and fell and shifted.

_You feel trapped._

A wordless yowl from Morgana.

Merlin yelling out, "No!"

Fire whipped past Arthur, tendrils reaching out like they wanted to wrap around him until there was naught left but ashes. But a golden shield sprang up around him, the light so bright that Arthur had to slam his eyes shut, or he probably would have gone blind. When he opened his eyes again, the fiery vines had gone, but the shadows were long on the floor.

_Like your whole life has been planned out for you, and you've got no control over anything, and sometimes you wonder if what destiny decided is really the best thing at all._

Things crashed. There were shadows pressing in, fringing on the edge of the golden light. Stones cracked, flying around the room. Arthur let Excalibur clatter to the ground, and curled into a ball as bits of wall and castle and glass whirled through the air, scratching at his skin and bouncing off of his armor. There were flashes of golden light, molten lightening, flaring and falling, and all the while Morgana continued to scream out words in a harsh language that Arthur didn't recognize. He could only assume that they were spells.

Merlin was silent.

_How are you so knowledgeable?_

_Hm? I read a book._

Arthur peered around the side of the throne.

"You can't do this to me," Morgana hissed, "You cannot do this to me!"

"Morgana," said Merlin, and he sounded old and tired, "I am sorry. But I did warn you."

Morgana's eyes twitched over to Arthur, and a smirk unrolled her on her face, and she laughed. It was an insane, unsettling sound that echoed and swelled. She threw her head back and laughed like the madwoman she had become. "What do you think happens after this, _Emrys_?" she said, and had to break off as she cackled again, "What do you think that Arthur's going to do with you now that his precious servant is a warlock?"

Merlin didn't turn. Arthur almost wished that he would – almost.

_Because you may be destined to rule Camelot, but it's your choice…as to how you do it._

Oh, Merlin, Arthur thought, still watching, why didn't you tell me?

"It doesn't matter what Arthur does with me," Merlin said, "But whatever he decides, I will accept it, because he is my king, and I trust him. It isn't something that I expect you to understand."

"He is going to kill you, like I warned you," Morgana hissed, all of her manic laughter vanishing, "He is going to watch you burn."

"If that is what he decides," Merlin said, "So be it. I'm going to give you one last chance – Walk. Away."

She screamed, and the roof shook and quaked. Arthur had just enough time to think some scrambled thoughts centering on the theme of oh-no-not-again when Merlin spoke. "You're done," he said. There was the crash of thunder, and lightening flew in through the shattered windows. Arthur's vision blurred with the blinding light, and covered his eyes with his arm. He could feel heat pressing on his face, his skin, everything.

The heat fell away. Now, when Arthur looked around the side of the throne, the only sign that Morgana had ever been there was a rather large scorch mark on the floor. Merlin had moved over to look out the window. Outside, the lightening was still knifing down into the ranks of Morgana's army as they fled. Arthur crept forward. There was wind, yet, whipping around in the throne room. "Merlin?" Arthur called over the noise.

He tensed at his name, not looking at Arthur. The sounds of the enemy retreating still echoed up, the thunder still crashed. Why wasn't Merlin stopping this? And suddenly, Arthur realized something – when Merlin came slamming through the doors before, it had appeared he had a handle on this magic, but that wasn't right. The reality was that maybe, just maybe, the magic had more of a hold on Merlin than the other way around.

Arthur reached out a hand, and hesitated, just above Merlin's shoulder. With a deep breath, he went the rest of the way forward. Merlin glanced up at him, eyes gone gold. Arthur could feel the tremors that were rocking him. "Merlin," Arthur said. He didn't yell. He didn't beg. "That's enough."

And everything just…stopped. The wind fell away. Everything dimmed to a normal level, but after the glowing brilliance that had echoed off of Merlin's magic it seemed dark and faded. The gold vanished from Merlin's eyes. The warlock gasped, his face turning gray, and his knees buckled out from under him, and he fell. Arthur tried to catch him, but was brutally reminded of the fact that, yes, he'd been stabbed not too long ago, and, yes, it was possibly to definitely serious. Both of them crashed to the floor, Merlin on his side and Arthur on his stomach. Arthur somehow landed with an arm sprawled across Merlin's torso.

"S-Sorry," Merlin slurred, his eyes fluttering closed, "Tried to tell…"

"No, Merlin, no, stay awake," Arthur whispered, even though his own vision was framed by the dark haze of unconsciousness. "D-don't, you have to…we have to…should stay awake…"

Merlin opened his eyes again, breathing erratic and shallow. "You're…you're hurt," he said, and before Arthur could process what was happening, Merlin's hand was pressed against the knife wound and his eyes barely flicked to gold. Arthur yelped as there was a sensation not different from when Morgana had jerked her dagger from him, but it passed almost immediately. Merlin winced, and went completely limp.

"Merlin?" Arthur said, shaking him a little. "Merlin!"

He wasn't moving – Arthur couldn't tell, even with his arm around him, if his servant-turned-friend-turned-almighty-and-powerful-warlock was still breathing. But there was a sickeningly warm, wet something that was soaking through Arthur's sleeve.

"No, you don't do this," Arthur said, pushing himself up so that he was kneeling. There was a growing patch of blood on Merlin's already torn and dirtied shirt, right where Arthur's injury had been before. Arthur pressed on his side where he'd been hurt to find nothing but a hole ripped into his chainmail. Arthur, panicked, and pressed his hands against the wound to stop the bleeding, "Wake up, Merlin! No, you don't this, not now, not like this. Merlin! No, damn you, _you do not do this_!"

He didn't get an answer. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, and got his arms under Merlin, and climbed to his feet. He took a step forward, fully intending to go and find help for his injured friend. After all, Arthur couldn't be properly cross with Merlin about the lying and the misdirection and the magic if the moron went and died on him.

Instead he crashed to the floor again. After all, even with the actual wound gone, he'd lost a good bit of blood. He slammed his head against the stones this time, and everything got very distant, like he was watching from very far away while still residing in his own head. Merlin landed next to him with a thud, and Arthur, with the last bit of strength he had left, reached out and grabbed Merlin's wrist. His pulse was thin, erratic, barely there. But it was there, just beneath Arthur's fingers.

There were feet, then, just in front of his field of vision. Someone pulled Merlin away, and Arthur wanted to protest – he couldn't save Merlin if he couldn't find him. But then someone was picking him up as well, throwing him over their shoulder. The movement made Arthur's head spin and his stomach lurch. He passed out.

Outside, the sky was clear, lovely and blue.


	9. Epilogue

Title: The Next Seven Days  
Author: Ultra-Geek  
Rating: T  
Summary: Arthur is told a series of events that will occur over the space of a week. The seventh day will end with magic returning to Camelot, ushered in by the warlock Emrys, either to save the kingdom or destroy it. Arthur has a plan, though. Sort of.  
WARNINGS: FOR ENTIRE SERIES  
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to Shine and BBC, I own nothing whatsoever  
AN – Here we are, at the end. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews! I've noticed a pattern in my multi-chapter fics – they all tend to end with Merlin drifting in and out of consciousness. : ) Also, has anyone else noticed a sudden blaze of fics about Merlin's scars in the fandom, recently? Not that I'm complaining, as I love them all, but…y'know? Haha, yay, vogues! Finally, this last bit is something I've vaguely ashamed of, but I have…joined Twitter. /hides in shame/ Anyway, if any of y'all wanna chat about Merlin over that-a-ways, I'm realgeekyish there. Come find me, if you dare!

* * *

_Epilogue_

* * *

When Merlin came back to himself, he was confused. He couldn't remember falling asleep. He felt heavy – like his limbs had been filled with metal and stone and someone had neglected to tell him. He was tired, drained, so far beyond exhausted that he couldn't think. Everything was dark around him, and for a terrified moment Merlin wondered if he'd actually gone evil and bad. A shudder ran through him, and his stomach rolled threateningly.

"Merlin?" a voice said, somewhere above him. They sounded panicked, "Merlin!"

With that, Merlin realized something else – his head hurt. A lot. A small whimper worked out of his throat.

"I'll go wake Gaius," a second voice said.

There was a hand on his shoulder. "Merlin? Open your eyes," the first voice was saying, "Please, if you can hear me, just open your eyes."

His eyes were closed? Oh. That would be an explanation for the dark that was everywhere. But Merlin's eyelids seemed to be as heavy as the rest of him. The voice was still talking, pleading with him to wake up. They sounded worried, scared. Merlin didn't like that someone was scared because of him, and forced his eyes open. The effort almost sent him spiraling away into unconsciousness.

The owner of the voice, it seemed, was also the owner of the hand. They were also standing over him. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. _Arthur_. Merlin stared up at him, and managed a small, "'thur?"

"Idiot," Arthur said, "Just…you _idiot_."

And Merlin was gone again.

The next time Merlin clawed his way to being awake, he was able to open his eyes without passing out. Merlin took it as a victory. But he was still as exhausted as before. This time, though, Gaius helped him to sit up, forced him to eat some bread. Merlin, trembling, had to lean completely against his guardian or collapse. He blinked around. "Why m'I in your bed?" he whispered.

"So we can keep a better eye on you than if you were in yours," Gaius said.

"Why m'I so tired?" Merlin said, "Magic…magic's never – not like this."

"What you did was the magical equivalent of sprinting fifty leagues whilst pulling a cart filled with stones," Gaius said, "You defeated an entire army by yourself. Then you took Arthur's wound."

"Sorry."

The last thing that Merlin heard before falling asleep against Gaius's shoulder was the physician chuckling, and saying, "You've saved us all, Merlin. Apology accepted."

Time passed. Merlin didn't know if it was the blink of an eye or a day, a year. He groaned, shifting slightly and opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Then a cheerful voice, loud and piercing, said, "Good morning."

Merlin flopped his head over. Gwaine, lying on his stomach on the table, wiggled his fingers in a wave in Merlin's direction as Gaius poked and prodded at his back.

"You look _ravishing_," Gwaine continued, "Is exhausted and bleeding the new fashion? Because between you and me and Lancelot we could get the ladies to…"

Merlin didn't find out what they could get the ladies to do. He was too busy falling asleep again. When he surfaced the next time, still completely unaware of how much time had passed, Arthur was sitting next to him, staring pensively at the wall. Gaius was moving around somewhere, outside of Merlin's line of sight.

"Merlin," Arthur said, once he noticed that the warlock was awake, "Morgana. Is she…did you…what I mean is –"

Morgana? Wait. Right. The fight. The fight with Morgana. "No," he said, "No, I don't think so. She left just before…you know." The words felt like glass in his throat.

"Okay," Arthur said. He nodded, and ran a hand through his hair, sending the blonde strands sticking up in all directions. "Okay."

"Arthur?" Merlin said, blinking at him. Something wasn't exactly right.

"What?"

"You're wearing a different crown."

Arthur paused, apparently at a loss, and then looked over at Gaius, "Has no one told him?"

"Told me what?" Merlin said. He was gone again before he got an answer.

The fifth time Merlin woke up, it was with a yelp as he jerked from a nightmare. As he sat up, the room spun around him in dizzy, lazy circles. He couldn't focus, couldn't shake the dream. There was a popping sound as several of Gaius's bottles exploded. All of the books flew off of the shelves to clatter on the floor. On the other side of the room, Lancelot flew to his feet and walked over to stand next to the bed, still limping ever so slightly.

"Merlin?" he said.

"Oh, I sat up too quickly," he muttered, leaning his head in his hand. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep, even breaths. He opened his eyes once again, and looked at Lancelot, who was just sort of gaping at him. Gwaine was loitering in the doorway. Then he took in the mess he had made in the room. "Um," he said, "Sorry?"

"Holy hell," Gwaine said, "What's going to happen when I get you drunk?"

"I don't get drunk," Merlin said. Everything was still spinning slightly.

"That's not what Gwen told me," said Gwaine, "And she's promised to tell me as soon as you're back on your feet."

Merlin smiled sweetly at him, and lay back down and pointedly closed his eyes. He heard Gwaine mutter, "Brat," from the door. Someone pulled the blanket over his shoulders. This time, when he drifted off, it wasn't into the complete void of exhaustion. This time, it was just regular sleep.

In the end, it took Merlin just short of two weeks to stay awake longer than an hour. He still tired easily, but they all just assumed that it was the normal progression of things. None of them had any previous experience in matters such as this, but Merlin was improving, and that was a good thing. As far as everyone else was concerned, Merlin would be back to normal in no time.

Merlin was less than hopeful.

He hadn't mentioned Old Merlin to any of them, not even to Gaius. He never brought up the fact that when he thought about That Day, when he'd come crashing back to Camelot, a cold and icy panic gripped his chest. He knew none of his friends actually knew how close he'd come to going completely and utterly insane That Day. He didn't mention how sometimes he woke up, rubbing at old battle wounds he hadn't gotten yet. How sometimes someone would say something, and a memory of ten years from now would spring into his mind.

After all, it would only worry them.

So it was that Merlin sat at the table, listening to Gwen regale a spellbound Gwaine about that one time that Merlin had gotten drunk. Gaius had joined them, and all three of them were giggling. Merlin was grinning, a bit ruefully, and quietly rubbing his thigh that would, at some point, get injured enough to pain him with a dull throb at any given moment.

"So then," Gwen said through the giggles that shook her, "Then he gets up, _on the table_, and starts singing. And then Arthur, just as drunk, climbs up there with him and gets to singing with him –"

"You didn't tell me this was a drunk Arthur story, as well!" Gwaine said, delight radiating out of him. "What were they singing?"

Gwen glanced over at Merlin, and said, "How did it go again, Merlin? Something about voices, and understanding?"

Gwaine began to bellow with laughter, slamming his fist on the tabletop. Gwen gave into her giggles, wiping at her eyes, and even Merlin smiled a bit. Gaius laughed as well, and patted Merlin on the shoulder. "Oh, God," Gwaine said, clutching his sides, "The stuff of legends, kings and warlocks drunk on tabletops –"

"Wait, _what_?" Merlin said, pushing himself up and forgetting about any wounds – real or yet to come – that may have slowed him down. "Arthur's the king?"

"Um," Gwaine said, "Whoops?"

* * *

Arthur had been by to see Merlin several times – mostly, except with a couple exceptions, the warlock had been unconscious – but his new, kingly duties kept him from Gaius's chambers more than he liked. There were moments, still, where Arthur would be gripped with a sudden and irrational fear that Merlin had upped and died on him.

Not that he said as much to Merlin, of course. It would only encourage him. And, speak of the devil…

"You!" Merlin said, throwing open the door to Arthur's chambers and jabbing a finger at Arthur, "You…you _prat_!"

"That's King Prat to you," Arthur said, falling back into a chair as Merlin fumed in the doorway, and waving a hand at the chair across from him, "Sit, we need to talk."

"How could you not tell me that you were the bloody king?" Merlin said, taking a few steps inside.

"You're the Grand Poobah of all things magical, rider of lizards and fryer of witches, yet you never seemed to find the time to mention it," said Arthur, and pointed at the chair across from him, "Sit."

Arthur could see the fight drain out of the warlock. "I'll stand, thanks," he said.

"No, you'll sit."

"You know," Merlin said, beginning to fidget slightly, as if regretting his sudden entrance, "I don't know if I've ever properly sat in a chair in here. Well, not while you were in here, at the very least – "

"Fine," Arthur said, "How about this train of reasoning – you're my friend, and you're still looking a bit off, and if you don't sit down I'm worried you will tip over, again, and then I'll have to deal with explaining to Gaius why you've bashed your head on the ground. Again. On my watch. _Again._ This ends with me having the shortest reign in the history of Camelot, because Gaius will kill me this time, Merlin, he will kill me. So sit. Down."

Merlin sat.

Arthur cracked his knuckles. "Right, then, onto business," he said, "You're fired."

"Brilliant," Merlin said, "Just to clarify, is it because of the lying or just because I have magic or both?"

"None of those, actually. I've named you as my Chief Advisor," Arthur said, "It would be awkward if you were my servant as well."

Merlin blinked once. Again. A third time. "Sorry, what?"

"I'm King, and I need advisors, and God help me, you seem to one of the best for the job. I know you're probably still a bit miffed at missing the coronation, but you slept through it," Arthur said, "We waited as long as we could, but then the council started moaning and groaning about civil war and unrest. I told them no one was going to try and usurp the throne, not while they thought that we had Emrys skulking about. We've kept it covered up, by the way, that you got all swoony after. If anyone asks, you've been going through everything down in the vaults, which you're going to do later, but…still. That's the story."

"Arthur – "

"As I was saying, though. You're to be in charge of all things magical, once Gaius clears you as healthy. You can wear a hat," Arthur said, gesturing up by his head, "A big, pointed one. You like big hats, don't you? We can add another title on there, too, if you'd like, like Advisor on Magic. We'll talk to Gwen, she's better at wording these kinds of things than I am."

"Arthur, stop," Merlin said, holding up a hand "I don't understand what's happening."

"I know you've had a rough few weeks, Merlin, but really," Arthur said, "But I would have thought you'd know a promotion when you hear one."

"Yes, but," Merlin said, sputtering slightly, "Why are – "

"Because I've been talking to Gaius and Lancelot a lot these last few days," Arthur said, "And all of their stories seem to point to you having a remarkably low sense of self preservation. You are important, Merlin. To the knights, to Gaius, to Camelot…to all of us. Everyone else seems to see it, except for you. And if that means I have to bury you in titles and codes and ethics to get it through to you, then I'm going to. Get used to being respected, Merlin, because it's going to happen whether you like it or not. So, congratulations, you're a council member now. I think that Gwaine's been saying something about adopting you into his family or the like, but you'll have to talk it over with him."

"I can't…" Merlin trailed off, "I can't accept any of that. Thanks, but –"

"You're under the impression that you have a choice in this," Arthur said, rising, "And I find that amusing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some other things to see to. King, after all."

"Arthur –"

"Don't 'Arthur' me, Merlin," he said, and then scratched his chin thoughtfully, "I'd knight you, too, if I thought that you'd want anything to do with it. Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Accept knighthood," Arthur said, straightening, "Because I could arrange that."

Merlin wrinkled his nose in distaste, "What? No. _No_. Just…no."

Arthur sighed in relief, "Thank God. You'd have been a bloody awful knight."

"The worst," Merlin agreed. "Can you even imagine?"

"I can't, I honestly can't," Arthur said.

Merlin tapped his fingers on the table, and said, "I'm sorry about your father."

Arthur became rather preoccupied with his thumbs, and said, "I am as well. About yours. Which, in turn, begs the question – which of us actually killed the dragon? And I want the truth."

"Um," Merlin said, "What would you do if I said neither of us did?"

One of Arthur's eyes twitched ever so slightly, "Probably slap you in the face, Gaius's consequences be damned."

"In that case, I think I hear someone calling me," Merlin said, and sprung to his feet, "I better go."

"_Merlin_!"

Merlin fled. His plan was to go hide out in Lancelot's room, but apparently fate, once again, had a different idea.

"A word, if you would," someone said from just behind him, latching onto his arm and pulling him into an alcove. Merlin squeaked, and almost fell over backwards in surprise. Old Merlin watched him from beneath a hood.

"You knew, didn't you?" Merlin accused, jabbing a finger at his older self, "You knew what I'd do."

"Well, in a manner of speaking," Old Merlin said, "You could've razed the city to the ground. You almost did. And, and don't try to deny it, I remember. There was that one moment, before you went up to the throne room, when I…you…_we_ turned around and looked at the castle, and the thought was there, that I could've if I'd wanted. But I didn't want it. Neither did you, apparently."

"No," Merlin said, "I didn't. But still, you knew."

Old Merlin grinned lopsidedly at him. "Honestly, what did you think was going to happen?" he asked, "We've put too much work into Camelot to just tear it down on a whim. My God, to think of all those wasted years spent slaving away, just to let it all turn to dust."

"Gaius would've been disappointed," Merlin mused.

"'Merlin! What were you thinking, tearing down the castle! I don't believe it!'" Old Merlin barked in a frighteningly good imitation of the physician.

Merlin smiled, and the two giggled quietly together for a minute. Then, Merlin's glee died down. "I would've lost everyone. Gwen, Lancelot, Gwaine, Arthur…"

"We'd've probably had Morgana," Old Merlin mused. They both stared off into the distance, and then simultaneously shuddered at the visions that danced through their heads. Old Merlin shook himself again, and said, "Needless to say, I'm glad things have gone this way."

"Merlin?" Gaius's voice came drifting down the corridor, "Merlin, where did you go?"

"That is my cue to be on my way," Old Merlin said, "Well, good luck. Don't die, or I might take it personally. Oh, and before I go, I've always regretted not –"

But then he was gone, in the space of an eye blink. Merlin was taken aback at the suddenness of it, and the curiosity of what Old Merlin was going to say, what he had always regretted. But he just reminded himself that he'd no doubt find out one day, in the right time. With a slight shake of his head, he stepped out of the alcove and into the corridor, calling out to Gaius. The old man came around the corner.

"Who were you talking too?" Gaius asked, glancing around, "I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone."

"Oh, no one," Merlin said, waving a hand. He hadn't told anyone much about his time away from Camelot that week, not about Morgana trying to get him to join her side, not about the dragon, not about his future-self popping in for a visit. He didn't know why – all he could say was that it just didn't feel like the right time. He grinned at Gaius, and said, "Just myself. Just talking to myself."

"Why does that do little to reassure me?" Gaius said, "Anyway, Arthur's looking for you, something about dragons. I told him I saw you heading to the lower town."

Merlin laughed and thanked his mentor, and walked along side of the physician. It was comfortably quiet for most of the way back up to their rooms, but then a question occurred to Merlin. "Gaius?"

Gaius looked at him, humming slightly in response.

"I was just wondering," Merlin said, "Do you happen to know anything about time travelling?"


End file.
